The Serenade: The Prince and the Siren [Daughters of the Empire 2] (BookStrand Publishing Romance)

by Hollingsworth, Suzette

  “What are you saying, Nicolette?” He stood up suddenly, not believing what he was hearing. He must not have heard her correctly.

  “Unless you are present, my love.”

  “Whatever do you mean, Nicolette?” He had never been more baffled in his life. He returned to sit beside her, studying her face. He swallowed hard, feeling amazed and confused not with pain but with hope. “What are you telling me?”

  “Henceforth, I shall only sing for you, Alejandro.” She smiled up at him, her eyes more beautiful than he had ever remembered.

  “No one else will hear you sing? No one…but me?” he asked, not believing what he was hearing.

  “I will sing for your private parties, for your gatherings, for your purposes. But my heart will only be for you.” A slow smile formed on her lips, and he knew that she was serious. “I shall never sing again unless you are present in my audience, Alejandro. Because I will only sing for you.”

  He stared at her, stunned and confused. Her sacrifice…her love…everything that she was. “You are doing this for España?” he muttered, knowing this wasn’t it but searching wildly for an explanation for this behavior that was so contrary to everything he knew about her.

  “No, Alejandro. For you, only for you.” She laughed, watching him, as she moved to close the space between them. She was so near that her breath mixed with his. She shrugged and then ran her finger along his lips, as if memorizing them. “I am sure that I will come to love Spain. I will love all that you love. And when I sing, it will be a great treat to receive a private concert from the queen of Spain. I will use my gift to truly serve the people of Spain. Once a year we will have a festival, invite great singers, and put on operas for the people of Spain. But only if you are present in the audience.”

  “Why? Why would you do this for me, Nicolette?” he managed to ask.

  “Because my heart is one with music. And I give my heart to you.”

  In an instant, he felt surrounded by love. He was wrapped in it, caressed by it, and he knew what it was to be loved and to be given everything.

  If this woman, this incredible woman, loved him so thoroughly, he must count for something. He must exist. He was no longer invisible to himself.

  “Mi vida, it would break my heart if I broke yours.” He took her by the shoulders. “It would be a travesty to deprive the world of such a voice.” He loved her too much. Now more than ever.

  “Alejandro, all my life I have followed my heart. Don’t expect me to stop now. If you want me, you must accept this about me.”

  “Oh, I want you, Nicolette. All my life I have wanted something impossible to attain. I thought it was the same with you. And suddenly I want for nothing.”

  He kissed her slowly, deeply, and he felt as if he were floating in heaven.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Hail to you who are consecrated!

  You pushed through night.

  —Amadeus Wolfgang Mozart, The Magic Flute

  Pope Pius X lowered the crown onto Alejandro’s head, kneeling before him, as he prayed for the king and for Spain. The crown reached King Alejandro de Bonifácio’s head, and there was complete stillness and quiet throughout the cathedral except for the sound of the pope’s prayers. The pope made the sign of the cross over the king’s forehead as he anointed him with oil. King Alejandro kissed the pope’s ring and turned to face his people.

  “God save King Alejandro!” was shouted amidst the sound of trumpets, in great contrast to the stillness only seconds ago. San Jerónimo el Real’s gothic arches three stories in height framed the scene, the altar behind them. A painting depicting Christ’s ascension into heaven with his disciples by his side completed the frame.

  “Come, Holy Ghost, our souls inspire, and lighten with celestial fire,” the choir sang. “Thou the anointing Spirit art, who dost thy seven-fold gifts impart. Thy blessed Unction from above is comfort, life, and fire of love. Enable with perpetual light.” The king, carrying a sceptre and wearing a crown, began walking the twenty-foot-wide aisle, his red-velvet-and-ermine stole trailing behind him, as the choir burst into Mozart’s “Hallelujah” chorus. The pope preceded him, while following behind him was the archbishop, the Garter King of Arms, and fifty clergymen in white robes.

  Nicolette felt somehow that all of Alejandro’s life had been leading up to this moment. And that this was where his life and purpose began.

  Will law and justice, in mercy, be executed in all your judgments? She heard Pope Pius’s questions replay in her mind, just as she heard Alejandro’s firm answer, the things which I have promised, I will perform and keep. So help me God.

  She was overcome with emotion as she watched Alejandro. Reflecting on the pope’s prayers, Nicolette considered that this man who had been so wounded would make the best kind of ruler—insightful, empathetic, and with a servant’s heart.

  King Alejandro did not see his crown as divine right. He saw himself as a laborer for the people, as a worker, as someone who had been given a difficult and unpleasant task but who was required to perform it or die trying. He identified with the people. He was the people. He lacked the desire to live solely for himself.

  And he was the strongest person she knew.

  “To comfort all those who, in this transitory life, are in trouble, sorrow, need, sickness, or any other adversity.” The pope turned to face the congregation at the end of the long aisle.

  Alejandro bowed his head. She loved him more with every breath she took. Because “duty” was intertwined with every cell of his body, he could not be separated from it, and she would no longer try. This was who he was. He had stretched himself to the limit to ask her to be his wife.

  She would not ask Alejandro to choose between her and country. She would love him as he was and assist him with his work. And she would find ways to satisfy her own soul and her need to express her being through music.

  Her life would be shared with Alejandro, and that was all that mattered to her. She knew that it would not be an easy road. Far from it. Her life would truly not be her own, which was all she had ever wanted. She relished her independence. Being born female in a world controlled by men, every fiber of her being wanted her life to be of her own making.

  And she had had that. Perfect, beautiful freedom to be who she was. She had had it in opera. The moment she was onstage, everything she was made to be came together, and time stood still.

  She wanted to give that to Alejandro every day. She wanted to see joy on his face. She wanted to feel their love for each other as pure bliss.

  As her eyes scanned the formidable figure of the king of Spain, from the precious jewels on his crown to the long train of the red-velvet-and-ermine robe, she made a new promise to herself replacing the one which had directed her being these many years.

  “Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of thy Holy Spirit.” The Pope turned to give the benediction as he raised his arms to the heavens, his white robe flowing with the movement. “That we may perfectly love thee and worthily magnify thy holy Name, through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

  Alejandro had the rare gift of knowing his purpose. And because the genuine nature of his feeling was so exposed, people pledged their allegiance to him.

  She was no different. She would never leave him. She would stand beside him no matter what. She would love him. And she would receive his love.

  “Until death do us part,” she whispered.

  God save the king.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Two hearts which burn with love

  Human frailty can never part

  Love is the effort of the enemy

  The Gods themselves protect them

  —Amadeus Wolfgang Mozart, The Magic Flute

  The date was May 31, 1904.Madrid was giddy with jubilation. It was the wedding day of the king of Spain, Alejandro Bartolomé Vicenté Ezequiel de Bonifácio, and the exquisite Lady Nicolette Genevieve Marvella Stanton Huntington, great-granddaughter of the Duke of Salford and
daughter of the 5th Earl of Ravensdale. Despite the initial surprise of the king’s choice of a bride and the disapproval of many in high political circles, an unmistakable sense of expectancy flooded Spain’s capital, brilliant with sunlight, spring flowers, banners, and musicians.

  Eight white horses wearing enormous purple plumes pranced with as much pride as any of Spain’s subjects, leading a white carriage, which carried King Alejandro de Bonifácio, to El Pardo Palace, where His Majesty’s bride joined him in the carriage. The two continued to the San Jerónimo el Real Cathedral together, the site of their wedding nuptials.

  The king’s intended wore a replica of her mother’s wedding dress. The original gown would have had to have been greatly altered to fit Lady Nicolette in the bosom and hips, in addition to requiring the attachment of a longer train to adorn the long walk down the cathedral aisle. Lady Ravensdale was sentimental about her wedding day. In the end Nicolette decided that her mother’s memories should remain intact along with her gown.

  The future queen’s gown was an ivory silk bustled dress with gatherings all along its six-foot train, fitted at the bosom and waist as well as halfway down the hips. Gathers in a seam down the front length of the dress formed a fitted silhouette, adding layers around the hips. A low-cut square neckline was adorned with rose-point lace. Long sleeves opened just below the elbow into V-shaped lace, further accenting the hipline. Elbow-length lace gloves added elegant femininity.

  Lady Nicolette wore drop-pearl-and-diamond earrings and a three-tier pearl necklace belonging to her mother. Atop glossy coal-black curls, adding fully three inches to her height, was a family heirloom of King Alejandro’s: a diamond tiara consisting of swirls of diamond, interlocking circles, and a large drop diamond in the front.

  The bride carried fire-and-ice roses.

  The bride’s family provided the dress, as was tradition. Every detail was, of course, in the newspapers. It caused quite a stir of approval that the dress had been completed under her aunt Julianne’s supervision, who actually did some of the finer needlework. It appeared that Julianne, only ten years older than Lady Nicolette, had inherited her own great-aunt Jane’s talent that had first turned the head of the Duke of Salford toward a vicar’s daughter and Lady Ravensdale’s grandmother, Marvella.

  What glorious music! A wedding processional and a king’s coronation should always be played by trumpets as far as Nicolette was concerned. If she had been coming down a hillside, it would not have been more dramatic than walking down the aisle of San Jerónimo el Real.

  As Nicolette began the long walk down to Henry Purcell’s “Trumpet Voluntary,” her train trailing behind her and her father on her arm, she turned and smiled rather than looking straight ahead. Her stage experience made this seem quite the natural thing to do.

  And the audience loved it. It almost seemed as if her entire life had prepared her for this moment, giving her the surreal sense that it was by divine plan.

  Don’t make me laugh! Bubbles raised his hand as if he were toasting her, and she had to stifle a laugh. She saw many heads of state. Most of them knew her just as they knew Alejandro, though possibly not as intimately.

  Who is that with Enrico? Ah, Ada Giachetti, an aspiring soprano. Ada had been separated from her husband for some time, but divorce was an impossibility in Italy. Enrico was so in love with her. Watching them, Nicolette felt a twinge of sadness to know she would be leaving the world of opera. But she would never abandon Music.

  Her first love.

  She saw all the people she loved smiling joyfully: her mother, Lady Elaina and Dr. Stanton, her brother Lance, Aunt Julianne, Enrico Caruso, the Marchesi, Monsieur Beaumaris, and Esteban.

  How does she keep from smiling? Again she stifled a giggle as she observed the queen mother, who appeared quite stiff in an elegant blue silk gown and black mantilla.

  He squeezed her hand. She turned to smile at her father, and Lord Ravensdale smiled back at her with a humility and warmth that startled her. He still appeared shocked by the turn of events. He had not wished her to sing on the stage and had never anticipated that it might send her down such a path.

  But, in the end, he did that which he did not wish to do, and love had saved them all.

  Lord Ravensdale wore the uniform of the 7th Dragoon Guards, the Princess Royals: a red jacket with his captain’s insignia, black pants with a wide claret stripe down the sides, and black leather knee boots. His sword was in his sheath, and he carried his tasseled steel helmet in his left hand.

  “Will you be quite happy, my darling?” She recalled his words from the prior evening as he tightened his hold on her arm. “I have thought for some time that you were born to sing.”

  “Oh, yes, Papa,” she had answered. “I am singing in every moment. I could not stop if I wished it.”

  When she reached Alejandro, her heart skipped a beat. Standing before her was her future husband. She gazed upon him in full ceremonial dress, his naval uniform with gold braids at the shoulders and sleeves, a light-blue sash across his torso, and a red sash around his waist. He wore his military medals, the Order of the Golden Fleece looped across his chest, and at his heart the pendant signifying the Order of the Immaculate Conception of Vila Viçosa.

  He looked every inch a king. But he was so much more to her. He was…a king. A man. A servant of the people. Her love. Her life.

  Did he look at her and wish she were a royal princess standing beside him? Did he wonder if he had made a mistake, if he had betrayed his duty to Spain? He had a duty to himself, she felt, but there was reason to believe that he did not share her view.

  “The bond of marriage is a holy mystery,” the archbishop of Toledo began. Alejandro smiled at her, and she saw such joy in his expression, such disbelief that she had chosen him.

  “And the Lord God said, It is not good that the man should be alone.” They kneeled before the archbishop of Toledo, who proceeded with the wedding ceremony and the mass.

  “Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony.

  “Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love.

  “King Alejandro and Lady Nicolette, today you will embark on a spectacular and miraculous journey,” the archbishop began reverently, his hands on each of theirs. “You will see more pain and more joy over the course of your commitment to each other than most could even imagine. You will be astonished and amazed. You will cry until you wish you could die. You will catch your breath in wonder. You will scream in frustration.

  “You will be so filled with love that you think you could burst. You will serve, you will put everyone else before yourselves, your lives will have strict codes of behavior, you will rarely have a moment’s privacy, and you will be on public display for the balance of your lives.

  “And you will be able to do all of this because and only because you have committed yourselves to each other. Through God’s intervention, you have met. And because one of you recognized something in the other of the divine, you have been in each other’s company long enough to discover that you have always loved each other.

  “Your resolve to marry against every inclination and logical argument is your answer to love’s call.”

  Nicolette felt her eyes watering even as she knew every word was true. Apparently the archbishop had been listening when they met.

  “May these rings be a symbol of true faith in each other and always remind King Alejandro and Lady Nicolette of their love.” The archbishop blessed the wedding rings.

  “I take this ring as a sign of my love and faithfulness in the name of the father, the son, and the Holy Ghost,” Alejandro spoke as he placed the ring on her finger.

  In that moment, by his action, she felt herself truly to be Alejandro’s wife. Nicolette looked into Alejandro’s eyes for regret and saw only joy there. He seemed to be searching her eyes as well, and she hoped he c
ould see that she had no misgivings.

  “I take thee, Nicolette, as my lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.”

  The archbishop raised his arms to heaven and then over their heads. “Therefore, what man has joined together, let not man separate. I now pronounce you man and wife.” She was overflowing with happiness.

  “…In remembrance of Me…” The declaration of their marriage was followed by a nuptial Mass in which Christ’s last supper was reenacted, in Catholic tradition.

  After the recessional, Nicolette placed flowers on the shrine of the Blessed Virgin Mary as the musicians sang “Ave Maria.” She found it strangely not difficult to remember everything she was supposed to do. It made her wonder, not for the first time, if her training on the stage had been for a greater purpose all along.

  Once outside after the signing of the register, King Alejandro and Queen Nicolette—with the declaration of her marriage, her title had instantly changed—returned to the white state carriage where they were driven slowly toward the Royal Palace by the eight plumed white horses.

  “Viva el rey!”

  “Viva la reina!” The streets were overflowing with jubilant well-wishers, slowing the carriage’s forward movement. As Nicolette looked out the window of the carriage, she was startled by the joy and enthusiasm everywhere visible. There was a constant chorus of “Long live the king and queen!” as flowers flew through the air. Nicolette smiled and waved, even as she could not take her eyes from Alejandro.

  “We are traveling at a snail’s pace, are we not, my love?” Alejandro laughed.

  She nodded.

  “Despite all our fears, it appears the Spanish people are wildly in love with you,” he remarked offhandedly, but she could see the pride in his expression. “As I am.”

  “And if they were not?” she asked. She had promised herself not to constantly worry about her acceptance. It was no way to live. But she was nonetheless pleased to tease her husband.