His Majesty's Marriage

by Rebecca Winters

  Day became evening. The old man began to yawn and Lizzie said, ‘I can manage, if you’ll trust me here alone.’

  ‘The King’s orders are that you’re to have everything you want,’ he said.

  She’d guessed it, and while it pleased her it also reminded her what a dangerous tightrope she was walking. When Daniel discovered the truth…

  So what? She’d been honest from the outset. Was it her fault if he couldn’t recognise the truth when he heard it?

  She worked on. A meal appeared at her elbow. She thanked the footman who’d brought it and was buried in files again before he’d left the room. She spent the next hour with a morsel of food in one hand and a paper in the other, occasionally dropping the food to make a note. At last she yawned and stretched with her eyes closed. When she opened them Daniel was standing there.

  ‘Still at work?’ he asked.

  ‘There’s so much to get through, and it’s all such good stuff,’ she said happily. ‘I can’t tear myself away.’

  ‘Don’t worry, it will still be here tomorrow. It’s time you stopped for the night.’

  ‘Good heavens! After midnight. I lost track of time. It’s fascinating, all those social reforms he promoted-’

  ‘Social reforms?’

  ‘Yes, I’m working on the fifties now. All those new laws-everyone thought the King was putting the brakes on, trying to maintain the status quo, but actually he was urging the Prime Minister on behind the scenes. He did so much good that he’s never been given the credit for-’

  ‘Or the blame if things had gone wrong,’ Daniel observed. ‘An appearance of political neutrality was useful to the King even then. But is that all you’ve been working on today? I thought you had other concerns.’

  ‘Oh, his love life’s interesting, of course,’ Lizzie agreed in a faintly dismissive tone that she’d calculated to a nicety, ‘but don’t let’s get it out of proportion. He was a fascinating man for many more reasons than that. I’ve been reading the cabinet papers for 1955, and guess what I found-here, look at this-’

  He settled beside her and followed her pointing finger. ‘That’s misleading,’ he said when she’d explained what had attracted her attention. ‘My grandfather never meant it that way, but the Prime Minister explained it badly in cabinet, and once they’d seized the idea-’

  He talked on, fetching more files for her. They argued. She talked about the lessons of history. He told her she didn’t know any history worth knowing. He accused her of jumping to conclusions, she accused him of having a narrow point of view. Lizzie grew heated, hammering home her point with a fierce enthusiasm that he would have called unfeminine but for the burning, beautiful light in her eyes.

  ‘No, listen,’ she said, interrupting him with a lack of protocol that would have made his courtiers faint, ‘you’ve got this wrong, and there’s a document in the Public Records Office that proves it.’

  ‘And what does a British office know about King Alphonse?’

  ‘It’s got all the cabinet records of that year, including his contacts with Sir Winston Churchill, and there’s a memo that says-’ She was away again, barely pausing for breath and not allowing him to get a word in edgeways for five minutes.

  ‘Is it my turn now?’ he asked at last.

  ‘You’re not listening to me.’

  ‘I’m not doing anything else,’ he said, exasperated to the point of raising his voice. ‘Now, look, read this again-’

  They were still at it, hammer and tongs when the clock struck two, amazing them both.

  ‘Enough for tonight,’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed. She was standing, but she sat abruptly, yawning and running her hands through her hair, which had grown untidy.

  Daniel regarded her, remembering the perfectly groomed woman of the ball. Now her face was bare of make-up, her eyes were drooping and she was too weary to be putting out her charms to seduce him. And that made her more mysteriously seductive than ever. As king, Daniel was used to women being consciously alluring for his benefit, their attractions all for show and not a thought in their heads but expensive gifts for themselves or advancement for their husbands. One who discarded politeness to argue with him for the sake of intellectual truth, and whose mental activity had tired her to the point of vulnerability, was new to him. She was suddenly far more intriguing than any woman in the world, and he had an urge to kiss her that was almost overwhelming.

  Gently he took her hands and drew her to her feet. She opened her eyes and looked at him vaguely. ‘Time to go to bed,’ she sighed.

  The words could have been provocative, but there was nothing teasing in the way they were said, and that provoked him more than anything. He fought his desire down. Not now, but later, when the time was right. And he would personally see to it that there was a right time. Whatever other disputes were between them it was growing clearer by the minute that she had to be his. He’d seen her as a woman of the world, boldly challenging him with her sexual promise. Tonight she’d been an academic, driven by an obsession with knowledge. Now the eyes that looked sleepily into his were as innocent as a child’s. There had to be a way of reconciling those three aspects into the same woman.

  Slipping an arm about her waist, he went to a concealed door that led into a bare wooden passage. It would take them directly to her room, and it was better that nobody saw them together like this.

  At the door to her room he stopped and pushed her gently inside.

  ‘Hey, I didn’t know there was a secret passage here,’ she said, waking up a little. ‘Anyone could come in without my knowing.’

  ‘Not if you slide the bolt across, like this,’ he said, showing her a small gilt bolt that was almost hidden in the rest of the giltwork. ‘There’s another one at the bottom, and once they’re shut you’re completely safe from intruders.’

  She didn’t answer, only smiled at him in a way that threatened his good resolutions. He bid her a hurried goodnight, and quickly returned along the passage. As he went he heard the bolts slide across her door, and wondered if he’d just succumbed to a form of insanity. On the whole, he was inclined to believe that he had.

  She breakfasted alone and went to the library as soon as she’d finished. Feltz wasn’t there. Instead she found a boy of about twelve, who rose as soon as he saw her.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he said with a small bow. ‘I was just leaving.’

  He was so like Daniel that she had no trouble identifying him.

  ‘You must be Prince Felix,’ she said.

  ‘Please, I am simply Felix,’ he said, inclining his head again. He was like a little old man, she thought. It was charming, but it was also unnatural.

  ‘I know who you are,’ he went on. ‘You are the lady everyone is talking about.’

  ‘I didn’t know that.’

  ‘Only they do it very quietly. If anyone mentions you in front of my father he gets angry and tells them to be silent,’ the child confided. ‘But you won’t tell him I said that?’ he added quickly.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll keep mum,’ she promised.

  He frowned. ‘Mum?’

  ‘It means keep quiet.’

  He gave her a wide smile. ‘Thank you. May I join you in here? I promise not to trouble you.’

  ‘Of, course you can stay. But it’s summer. Shouldn’t you be outside? It’s the school holiday. But I don’t suppose you go to school.’

  ‘Oh yes, I go to a school here in the city. But I have a holiday assignment to complete.’

  ‘Don’t you get any fun?’

  ‘But of course.’ He seemed mildly shocked. ‘Each afternoon we go horse riding-’

  ‘We?’

  ‘My brother Sandor and my sister Elsa.’

  ‘You go riding together every afternoon? Without fail?’

  ‘Yes, and we enjoy it very much.’

  ‘Yes, but-’ To Lizzie it sounded regimented, however much they liked it, but she backed off from trying to explain to this grave child.

&n
bsp; ‘Do you enjoy riding, Miss Boothe?’

  ‘A lot.’

  ‘I’ll have the head groom find a suitable horse for you, and you can join us this afternoon. Goodbye until then.’ Despite his youth the boy’s manner was calmly authoritative, and she was reminded uncannily of Daniel. This child was like him in more than looks.

  She worked until one o’clock, when lunch was brought to her. Afterwards a footman came to inform her that the Crown Prince was waiting for her, and led her to the stables. Felix was there, with a younger boy with a cherubic face and a girl of about ten with the beginnings of beauty. They greeted Lizzie politely, and the girl showed her some hard hats, inviting her to take her pick.

  The mare they’d chosen for her was a delight, a docile creature with gentle eyes and a silken mouth. When Lizzie had spent a few moments getting introduced they were off, with a groom riding just behind.

  The palace grounds were huge, with the neat gardens giving way to a park where the atmosphere was more relaxed. They gathered speed and galloped in the direction of the water. It turned out to be a lake, with a tiny pebble beach, where they dismounted to let the horses drink. The children took it in turns to ask her courteous questions, and soon Lizzie began to find their perfect behaviour slightly oppressive. To lighten the atmosphere, she said,

  ‘I knew a lake like this when I was a child. It was in the local park and I used to compete with the boys in stone throwing. I could beat them too.’

  ‘Stone throwing?’ Felix echoed with a little frown.

  ‘Like this.’ She picked up a pebble, checked to see that there was no passing wildlife to be endangered, took careful aim, and sent the stone skimming across the surface of the water until it reached the other side.

  ‘Try it,’ she suggested.

  Felix did so, but he couldn’t manage the flick of the wrist that causing the skimming action. He threw ‘straight’ and the stone dropped into the water with a miserable ‘plop’. Sandor had no better luck.

  ‘Now you,’ Lizzie said to Elsa.

  ‘Me?’

  ‘What they can do, you can do. And, if you’re like me, you can probably do it better.’

  And she did. With sharper eyes than her brothers Elsa had noticed the crucial wrist movement, and with her first throw she made the stone bounce along the surface of the water. Not far, but enough to goad her brothers out of their perfect behaviour, Lizzie was glad to notice.

  Sandor was the next to get the idea. Of the three he seemed the most naturally aggressive. He threw and threw, his face creased into a scowl that threatened a temper if he wasn’t acknowledged the winner. The gentle Felix did his best, but he was the first to stop when a duck suddenly appeared, followed by frantically paddling ducklings.

  ‘Wait,’ Lizzie said urgently. ‘You might hurt one of them.’

  ‘Let them get out of the way,’ Sandor blustered.

  ‘I said wait,’ Lizzie insisted, taking firm hold of the hand he was raising.

  Sandor threw her a black look but, reading the determination in her eyes, backed down. The other two children exchanged glances.

  Lizzie had feared a tantrum from a child who was clearly used to getting his own way. But the next moment Sandor had shrugged the matter aside and was all smiles. He even began to clown, calling to the duck across the water,

  ‘Excuse me, dear madam, would you mind hurrying, please?’

  The mother duck cast him a startled look and began paddling faster, which made them all burst out laughing, Sandor loudest of all.

  ‘Good afternoon.’

  Nobody had known that Daniel was there, and at the sound of his voice they all swung around, their laughter fading to silence. Lizzie knew a stab of pity for him. It must be terrible for any man to know that his presence was a blight on his children.

  And he did know. She could see it in his eyes, although his pleasant smile never wavered as they greeted him. He was their father, but first of all he was their king, and he was no more skilled than they at finding a way around that.

  He asked about their ride and they responded with appropriate words. Lizzie did her best to help, praising the children as good hosts, he congratulated them, and they were all relieved when it was over.

  The children continued their ride with the groom. Daniel looked at her, frowning.

  ‘How did you contrive to meet my children?’ he asked curtly. ‘They can’t tell you anything.’

  Lizzie’s eyes flashed. ‘You’ve got a nerve, suggesting I wormed my way in. I didn’t “contrive” anything. I don’t stoop to those methods.’

  ‘Then how did you meet them?’

  ‘Felix was ahead of me in the library this morning. We introduced ourselves and he invited me to ride with them.’

  He closed his eyes tiredly. ‘Forgive me. I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m afraid I grow suspicious of everything. Ride with me.’

  She mounted the mare and the two horses began to walk side by side.

  ‘Your children are charming,’ she ventured.

  ‘They are also afraid of me,’ he said in a brooding voice.

  ‘A little in awe, perhaps, but not afraid.’

  ‘I haven’t known what to say to them since their mother died.’

  Lizzie could believe it all too easily. ‘What was she like?’ she asked gently.

  ‘She was a wonderful mother,’ Daniel said at once. ‘She insisted on taking charge of the nursery herself. She left the nannies very little to do. She said that nobody must come between her and her children.’

  Lizzie wondered if he knew what he was revealing. Daniel had nothing but good to say of his late wife, but through the words there appeared a picture of a woman who had not loved her husband and had consoled herself with her children. He gave no hint as to whether he had loved Serena, but it was clear that her remoteness had left him lonelier. The right woman could have drawn him out, she thought, encouraged the warmth that she was sure was there in him. If she’d loved him…

  Lizzie pulled herself together, wondering where her wits were wandering. It was Daniel’s fault for looking so handsome as they drifted beneath the trees, moving in and out of the sunlight. He wore no jacket and his sleeves were short, leaving no doubt of the spare, hard lines of his body, the broad chest and narrow hips. He controlled his horse easily, with slight movements of his muscular thighs that held her attention even while she knew that a wise woman would blank him out, for her own sake.

  It was a shame, she thought. So much masculine power and beauty was destined for an athlete, a dancer, or a trapeze artist. One thing was for sure. It was wasted on a king.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  T HAT night Lizzie was about to go to bed when there was a knock on the door to the secret passage.

  ‘It’s Daniel,’ came a quiet voice from behind.

  She slid back the bolts and he stepped into the room, still in white tie and tails from a reception at a foreign embassy. He looked pale and drawn, as though his mind was troubled.

  ‘I’ve brought you something,’ he said, giving her a large brown envelope.

  ‘The letters,’ she breathed, exploring.

  ‘Four of them, to start with. You might tell me if you recognise Dame Elizabeth’s writing.’

  She settled down on the sofa and began to go through them like a treasure hunter who’d just struck gold.

  ‘I don’t really know her writing,’ she said regretfully. ‘In her last years she had arthritis in her hands and never wrote anything down if she could help it. This could be hers. I’m not sure.’

  The letters were touching. A gentle, eager soul breathed through the words. This was a woman with a great, tender heart, full of love for one man.

  ‘My goodness,’ she breathed. ‘I’d really love to-’ She checked herself on the verge of saying she’d love to see the other side of the correspondence. It would be silly to throw away her ace while she was winning.

  ‘Love to-?’ Daniel asked.

  ‘Love to see the rest of the let
ters.’

  ‘This is all you get for the moment.’

  She began to read the four letters slowly. They were not only loving but also frankly sensual in a way that made her revise her opinion of Alphonse.

  ‘I wish I’d known your grandfather,’ she murmured. ‘He can’t have been the stick-in-the-mud everyone thought, or no woman would have written to him like this.’

  ‘I beg your pardon!’ Daniel said frostily. ‘I resent the term “stick-in-the-mud”.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Lizzie said quickly. ‘But you know what I mean.’

  ‘I don’t think I do. He was a man I greatly admired-’

  ‘But don’t you realise that now you’ve got another reason to admire him? If he could inspire this kind of love he must have been quite a man. Listen…’

  “‘You have given me a reason to live. We are so far apart and see each other so little, and yet you are with me every moment because you’re never absent from my heart.’”

  From another letter Lizzie read, “‘I can feel you with me now, your body against mine, your loving still part of me, and I wonder how I lived before we met. To me the world is a beautiful place because you are in it. Whatever happens from now on, I shall say my life was worthwhile, because I was loved by you.’”

  She stopped. After a moment some quality in the silence made her look up to find him staring into space. He looked stunned.

  ‘Daniel,’ she said, laying her hand over his.

  He didn’t look at her. His eyes were fixed on something she couldn’t see. Perhaps his grandfather. Perhaps himself.

  ‘I read that letter earlier,’ he murmured. ‘But I barely noticed those words. When you read them-it’s different-I hear them for the first time-almost as though you-’

  He stopped, suddenly self-conscious.

  ‘You’re right,’ he went on after a moment. ‘How little I really knew him! I admired him, but I was in awe of him, just as my own children are of me. He seemed so stiff and remote. But he couldn’t have been if a woman could write such words to him.’

  He gave a wry laugh. ‘What do we ever know of another person? I wanted to be like him, and now I discover that I never can be. He was a man who could inspire a woman to say that the world was beautiful because of him. And I know, if I’m honest, that no woman has ever said or even thought that about me.’