by Rachel Hauck
“I know.” She liked Mrs. Caller. Susanna had a lot in common with the old Georgia belle.
She walked Gage to the edge of the garage, then waved as he fired up his truck and backed down the drive. “Don’t drive over my cable.”
Back at her desk, Susanna finished her Diet Coke and fielded his invitation, rather invitations plural, tossing them around in her heart.
Could she date Gage? It had been two months since the coronation, and she’d not heard boo from Nate. But she thought of him every day.
She was waiting for a ripple of news that he’d proposed to Lady Genevieve or some Brighton lady. Or news that a resolution to the entail had been discovered.
Reaching to her track pad, she surfed the web for the Brighton papers. Last time she looked, Lady Genevieve was wooing Hessenberg schoolchildren. Predictions of a royal wedding flourished.
Gage’s offer of love reminded her how much she missed Nathaniel. How she loved him. Heaven help her, she loved a man who lived four thousand miles away.
She played their few private moments together over and over in her mind like humming a favorite song. But the images had begun to wear thin, lose their impact on her heart. Her memory of his fine, pristine voice was starting to fade and on occasion sound a lot like Daddy’s Southern twang.
When the Liberty Press unfolded on her screen, Susanna braced herself as she forayed into Brighton’s world.
She half closed her eyes and clenched her stomach, expecting to see a big ol’ honking headline:
ENGAGED!
Then, then, she could truly let go and convince her heart it was time to move on. He wasn’t coming for her. They were the wrong people at the wrong time. Or maybe the right people at the wrong time. But wrong definitely factored into the whole equation.
But there was no ENGAGED! headline. She exhaled, then heated with frustration. Come on, Nate, get it over with. Propose already.
But why was she thinking of Nate? A man, a nice man, a handsome man, a successful man wanted her. She didn’t love Gage, but she could learn to love him, right? After all, love was a choice, wasn’t it?
Susanna shoved away from her desk and pressed the heel of her hands to her forehead. Eight months after she’d prayed with Nathaniel on Christ Church grounds, she still had nothing.
“Lord, is this what you have for me? Gage? Do I move? Stay on the island? Can you please get Nathaniel out of my heart?”
She mimed pulling him out of her chest. Mimed tossing away the largeness sensation she carried with her every day.
She thought of the green lawn of Christ Church. God had something for her. She just knew it. So how was she to stumble upon it? How did she live day-to-day trusting him to be in charge of the outcome?
Grabbing her purse, she started for her car. She stopped and gasped when she saw the gold Louboutins she’d tossed to the back of her closet when she returned from Brighton sitting on the edge of the garage floor, glittering in the sunlight.
“Aurora!” Susanna picked up the shoes and ran onto the lawn. “Where are you? Aurora. Come back here. You’ve got to stop this. How did you get into my closet?” Mama! She probably let her in.
The homeless woman streaked across the lawn from the back porch toward the woods behind the house, waving her hands in the air. “The prince is coming.”
“Aurora, please, stop bringing me …”—Susanna offered the Louboutins to the breeze—“shoes. No more talk of princes.”
“The prince is coming.” She paused on the edge of the woods, her bleached hair glinting like spun silk.
“Come back here. I know you’re not crazy. Tell me what you’re talking about.”
“He’s coming. Chase no other loves. Chase no other loves.”
“Oh my gosh, you make no sense. Aurora, he’s not coming. He’s not. It’s been too long. He doesn’t love me.” The words rang out, hard, cold, frozen in the warm island air and for a fast instant, her heart’s eye could see the words. Feel the reality.
Maybe now she could move on with her life.
May
He was nervous. More than any time he could remember in the past. More than on his January coronation day when a surreal calm steadied him the entire time.
But this? If he crashed and burned, he’d not get another chance.
Most days, his confidence rode high. After all, he walked in his destiny, one he’d accepted as ordained by God. Not men.
But today, he presented the Senate House and Commons House his own Order of Council. The first brought by a sitting royal in a hundred and two years.
Waiting for Henry in the briefing quarters, he tapped his jacket pocket. The small box bounced against his hip. Queen Anne-Marie’s ring.
Dashing out this morning, he remembered he’d tucked it away on his fireplace mantel and snatched it up, slipping it into his pocket. Lord Thomas Winthrop, who had designed the ring, was known for his devotion to Queen Anne-Marie. Nathaniel wanted to carry that heritage with him into the chamber. Then, perchance, on his way to the car, he remembered the queen’s formal name.
HRH Queen Anne-Marie Victoria Karoline Susanna.
He was smiling when Henry entered. “Well, you look confident.”
“Actually, I’m a bit nervous. I was smiling at something I remembered … a bit of serendipity. Otherwise, I’m turning with nerves.” He flicked his gaze toward the sounds beyond the ornate paneled room. With no windows, he’d lost track of the minutes passing.
“You’ll do fine. They’re coming in now for the joint session.” Henry paused at the bourbon cabinet. “Care for a nip?” He raised a glass.
“When have you ever seen me take a nip?”
Henry chuckled. “Well said, Your Majesty.” He glanced at his hands. “No notes?”
“I memorized it. I didn’t want to come off stuffy.” He shook off his nervous tension through his fingertips. “I want to be sincere.”
Nathaniel’s presentation today would not only impact him but the generations to come. Generations over which he would have no control. Just as his forefathers had no control over him but trusted their king, yes, theirs, to make correct decisions during his hour in Brighton history.
“You are always sincere, Nathaniel. You’ll do fine. You’ve made dozens of speeches in your short career.”
“None so important as this one.” Now he wished he had printed out his speech for today’s session. This one meant so much. What if he fumbled his points? He turned to Henry. “Do you have the official Order of Council prepared?”
“I do.” Henry finished his shot of bourbon and set his glass on a service tray. “Nathaniel, the members understand the Crown does not take this privilege lightly.”
“I’d feel better if this were not solely for my own gain. If I were bringing some kind of passion before them on behalf of the people. Instead I want something that only regards me and mine.”
“Then give it your all.” Henry patted him on the shoulder. “Your ancestors and the Parliament didn’t seem bothered by restricting you and yours two hundred years ago when they imposed the Marriage Act.”
“You’ve never said if you agree.”
“I’m quite sure I don’t.” So, his prime minster did not agree with him. “It could leave the monarchy vulnerable.”
“Which is why we’ve written in conditions and stipulations,” Nathaniel said.
“Then let the order go to the vote,” Henry said. “Are you ready to accept whatever comes?”
“I am. I’ve not spoken to Susanna since she left. I’ve no guarantee that if the law is changed she’d even speak to me, let alone marry me. She told me straight to my face she didn’t want to marry me. I’m not an easy guy for a girl to commit to. I come with a kingdom on my shoulders.”
“If she loves you—”
“She never said she loved me either.”
“And you’re still going through with this?”
“Yes.” It’d become his conviction to do so.
“Love is not for the
weary or faint of heart, is it?”
“Henry, do you love my mother?” Nathaniel asked, quick, without much thought.
“Excuse me, Your Majesty?” He reached for his bourbon glass on the service tray, then thought better of it and set it down.
“Do you love my mother? Simple question.”
“Rather personal and straightforward as well.” Henry stared at Nathaniel then away, glancing about the debate box, walking around the chairs, trying to choose on which to sit.
“Do you?”
“Yes. For a long time now.”
“You were her first love? Before my father?” Nathaniel relaxed a bit, dipped his hands into his pockets, and leaned against the mahogany wall.
“She told you, then?”
“Not directly. I put the pieces together.”
“We met after university. Your mum, quite a rebel in her day. Shunning the social season to work at a rug factory, refusing to debut. I admired her, followed her to one of her poetry readings. We read a lot of poetry in the seventies. I fell in love. It took her a few months, but she … well, we planned to marry. But her parents had other plans. A prince, not a blue-collar lad with solicitor aspirations.”
“You have my blessing, as her son and as your king, to pursue her.”
The prime minister of Brighton blushed. “Perhaps, when my term is up.”
“Why wait?” Nathaniel asked. “If you still love her after all these years, why must you wait? It’s a gift. Take it.”
“I do believe you’re preaching to yourself a good deal more than me, Nathaniel,” Henry said.
He laughed, his nerves rising again, and reached into his pocket for his handkerchief, patting the perspiration from his forehead. “How do you think Hessenberg will respond to the order?”
“Their representatives will hear your argument and the order, then vote accordingly. No need to try to predict their response.”
Nathaniel glanced at his phone. “Best get to the robe room.”
Henry nodded. “See you in the chamber.”
Down the hall, Nathaniel peeked into the murmur of the chamber over the mezzanine banister. The members were arriving, taking their seats.
But where was Jon? He’d promised to be here at half past. He was late. The information he bore would uphold the first half of Nathaniel’s speech. Information Nathaniel had not even told Henry about.
Jon’s team of investigators had discovered a woman in Florida who appeared to be a true descendant of Prince Francis. His great-great-niece.
Though it seemed odd. A Hessen royal living in America unawares? But she was the great-granddaughter of Alice Edmunds.
In the robe room, Nathaniel found Jon waiting for him. He jumped to his feet when Nathaniel entered. “Regina Beswick. Or shall I say Princess Regina Beswick.” He passed Nathaniel the brown dossier, much thicker now with two months of reports and information.
“Beswick? Her name is Beswick?” He skimmed the last page of the dossier before handing it back to Jonathan. The robe-room steward seemed rather miffed over Jon’s interfering with his duties.
“Still investigating the details, but I’m pretty sure we have the princess.”
Nathaniel punched the air with his fist. “I knew an heir was out there.” He listened to Jon’s briefing as the steward aided Nathaniel into his robes and crown.
A bit of courage, a lot of prayers, and the heir to Hessenberg had been found. It was a good moment to be king. And a fine day to fight for the right to marry the woman he loved.
The spotlight over the podium beamed down on Nathaniel. His hands steadied as he surveyed the long, narrow room of posh leather, cherry wood, and Brighton-quarried stone.
“You all look as terrified as I feel,” he began, and the chamber filled with a tempered laugh. A feathery touch brushed over Nathaniel’s head. A sensation he’d experienced since childhood. One he believed to be the tip of God’s wing.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the chamber, members of the Senators House and the Commons House, thank you for this audience today.
“The Marriage Act of 1792 came about when royals ruled Europe. When our forefathers and mothers were united in marriage for the sake of power and possession.
“Your predecessors, along with mine, took matters in hand and instituted the Marriage Act when Princess Paulette of Lorraine nearly destroyed our military by helping her Uncle Louis fight Napoleon. Our Parliament, along with the Crown, decreed no royal could marry outside Brighton as long as the ruling royal, the archbishop, prime minister, and privy council did not object.
“So our way has been for over two hundred years.”
The chamber gave a united, quick “hurrah” as was their tradition when they agreed with a speaker.
“As it should be.” A lone but powerful voice pierced the “hurrah.”
Beading sweat popped out on Nathaniel’s brow. “Yet history has changed.” His voice held steady as he scanned the chamber for a visual barometer. “Europe’s royal houses have fallen. Republics and democracies have taken their place.
“But we hold to our constitutional-monarchical government as a way of checks and balances on the law of the land and our way of life.
“We work hand-in-hand, you and I, the Crown and the Parliament. We are partners. Servants of the people.
“But you, ladies and gentlemen, are free to choose your own life. Especially when it comes to love.
“I won’t stand here and tell you what a sad life I lead because I am king.”
Laughter rippled toward him.
“But perhaps I might gain your sympathies over the notion I am not free to marry whom I love. I’ve pledged my life and heart to Brighton Kingdom. I’ll serve her as she wills. But my good friends, I’m here today to ask for the Marriage Act to be amended.”
Several “boos” haunted the room.
Nathaniel gripped the side of the podium. Did he not expect opposition? “I’m asking for myself and for those who follow me. I submit to you Order of Council HRC 143 that the crown prince or princess may marry whom they love, domestic or foreign.
“Your monarchs will serve better when serving with one they love. I ask you, my countrymen, not to abolish the Marriage Act of 1792, but to amend it. Let’s write a new covenant of love. One where the good of Brighton and the Crown come together.”
Nathaniel raised his chin and regarded again the room. Were they with him? Smiling faces turned stony, and the buoyancy of having the king in the room sank.
To his right, a contingent of representatives shifted. Spoke low to one another.
“On a final note, I received a good word before coming into this hallowed chamber that an heir of Prince Francis has been discovered in the state of Florida.” The room rumbled. “My staff has worked tirelessly for the last few months, following every lead until they discovered the grand duke’s niece. We will contact her and inform her that a deserving nation awaits her destiny.” He paused, smiling. Hessenberg representatives were on their feet, fixed and focused. “I’m sure she’ll need our most ardent prayers.”
He thanked them, bowed, and backed away from the speaker’s podium. His heart thundered as he exited the chamber. In silence.
He’d done what he came to do. And for the first time since he determined to propose this change, Parliament’s response did not matter.
He’d leave the matter to the God he trusted.
Jon fell in step with him as he headed for the robe room. “Well done, sir, well done.”
“We shall see.”
Then he heard it. The rumble, the shaking, the shouts and stomping feet. And an earth shattering, one-chorus, “Hurrah!”
There was a reason she had left the gardening to Leo. He knew what the blazes he was doing. She did not.
Campbell sat back on her heels, shoved her sun hat off of her damp forehead, and considered the mess she’d made with her spade. The spring forget-me-nots she’d planted in Leo’s honor were … well, forgettable.
She’d cons
ulted the royal gardener, Sir Pine, who offered to travel out to Parrsons and care for the walled garden himself, but Campbell insisted she needed to attend to this task herself.
This was Leo’s garden, his private refuge, and she didn’t want to turn it over to a mere custodian. It needed care. Her care.
Besides, she needed a distraction. Especially today. Nathaniel presented his order to the parliament today. The first one in a hundred and two years. She was nervous for him.
Did she agree with his actions? Campbell wasn’t sure. The old law made her feel safe. Protected from foreign influence through marriage. Yet her mother’s heart wanted her son happy. She liked Susanna. Admired her. Given any other circumstances, she’d praise Nathaniel’s choice.
So perhaps she should let go of fear and distrust.
Rising off her knees, Campbell sat on the stone bench under the tree and slipped off her gloves and hat, cooling off in the spring breeze drifting down through the branches.
With the coronation over and the first anniversary of Leo’s death approaching, she felt restless. As if life were calling but she wasn’t sure to where or what.
“Taking a rest, I see?”
Campbell smiled at Henry. He was a welcome sight. “I can’t go on torturing these poor forget-me-nots.”
“Rollins said you were here.” Henry sat next to her on the stone bench and covered her hand with his. “You can be proud of your son. He did splendidly.”
Despite the strangeness of his intimate touch, she did not pull away.
“And?”
“The order passed.”
“Oh, Henry!” She tightened her grip around his hand. Joy! “Is he off then, to see her?”
“He received the news rather calmly. Looked to Jon and said, ‘See you at my office.’ So I have no idea of his plans. He claims she said she’d not marry him. Never said she loved him. But things are changing in Brighton, Campbell. It’s a new era, a new day.”
“It is at that, isn’t it?” Campbell watched a pair of robins bounce from limb to limb, twittering after one another. “She’ll be a grand queen, won’t she? If she accepts Nathaniel.”