by Penny Jordan
‘I have to return to Niroli.’
They were back home in Emily’s kitchen. The necessary appointment had been made with the cardiac specialist, and now Emily inclined her head slightly as she listened to Marco.
‘Yes, of course,’ she agreed. She had been expecting him to say this, and she knew, too, that there would be no demands from him now that she should return with him so that his son could grow up on the island. The royal family of Niroli were arrogant and proud, too arrogant and proud to want to accept that one of their bloodline could be anything less than perfect. No, Marco would not want a sickly, ailing child around to remind him of that. She could feel the pain of the rejection on behalf of her baby, but she stifled it. It was Marco who was not worthy of their child, not the other way around. Not worthy of her child and not worthy of her love.
Marco desperately wanted to tell Emily how he felt—but this was not the right time. Unfortunately, he had a duty to inform his grandfather first of his intentions. Once he had done that, then he could tell Emily how much he loved her. Did she love him? His heart felt as though there were a knife twisting inside it. But even if she didn’t love him, he still intended to be a full-time father to his son.
‘I’ll be back in time for the appointment with the cardiac specialist.’
Emily bowed her head. She mustn’t let her own feelings swamp her. She had to be strong—for her son. Was it something she had done, or not done, that had caused his heart defect? she had asked the obstetrician.
No, Mr Bryant-Jones had told her, sometimes the condition ran in families, but sometimes it ‘just happened’, without there being any reason.
‘What do you mean you no longer wish to succeed to the throne?’
‘I mean, Grandfather, that I am abdicating my claim to the Crown. I intend to make a formal speech to that effect, but I wanted you to be the first to know,’ Marco told his grandfather calmly.
‘You are giving up the throne of Niroli for the sake of a woman and her child.’
Marco could hear the disbelief in his grandfather’s voice.
‘My woman and my child. And, yes, I am giving up the throne for them. For them, and for our people.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘It would never have worked, Grandfather. I could never step into your shoes.’ Marco saw that the old man was looking slightly gratified.
‘For me, they would be constraining, too limiting,’ he finished firmly. ‘We have done nothing but argue since I first arrived. You block every attempt I make to make reforms—’
‘Because they are not right for our people.’
‘No, because they are not right for you.’
‘What you want to do would cause a schism that would split the island.’
‘If you continued to oppose me, then, yes, there is that possibility. Niroli needs a king who will bring it into the twenty-first century—I firmly believe that. But I also believe now that Niroli’s king can never be me. That does not mean that I don’t care about my homeland and my people, I do—passionately—but I now know that I can do more for it and for them by working from outside its hierarchy.’
‘By spreading anarchy, you mean?’
‘By setting up a charitable trust to help those who most need it,’ Marco corrected him evenly.
There was a certain irony in the fact that, whilst he had refused to wear the heavily decorated formal uniform his grandfather had had made for him on his arrival in Niroli, he was wearing it now to take his formal leave, Marco admitted as he waited for the king’s equally elderly valet to finish fastening him into the jacket with its heavy gold braid. But somehow it seemed fitting that, on this one occasion, he should defer to tradition.
The world’s media had been alerted to the fact that he intended to make a public speech; TV and radio crews had already arrived and the square below the palace balcony, from which he had chosen to address the people, was already full.
How different he felt now, compared with the way he had felt when he had first returned. Then, he had been filled with a fierce determination to fulfil his destiny; it had ridden him and possessed him.
This morning he had woken up with a sense of release, a sense of having gained back a part of himself he was only just becoming aware he had been denying.
The valet handed him his plumed hat. He could hear the shrill sound of trumpets. Walking slowly and majestically, he headed for the balcony, timing his entrance to when the military band broke into the Nirolian national anthem. Then he stepped forward.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
EMILYstopped outside A shop window to look at her reflection and push her hair off her face. It was a sullenly hot day and her back was aching. She had been to see a client, but had hardly been able to focus on what the man had been saying to her because of her dread of what the cardiac specialist might say. Part of her wanted to rush the appointment and the specialist’s opinion of her baby’s future forward, whilst another part of her wanted to push it away. She was standing outside an electrical store that sold televisions. Its windows were filled with a variety of large screens. She glanced absently at them and then froze in disbelief when she realised she was looking at Marco. A camera homed in on his face, and then panned to the crowd in the square beneath him.
What was happening? Emily could think of only one thing: Marco must already be formally taking his position as the new King of Niroli. She wanted to ignore the screens and walk on past the shop, but instead she found that she was going inside.
‘This is a most extraordinary event,’ she could hear a TV news commentator saying excitedly. ‘The royal family of Niroli is one of the richest in the world. They live according to their own set of rules. Of course the current King of Niroli is Giorgio. However, there have been rumours for some time that he is about to step down in favour of his grandson, Prince Marco. Now we have learned that Prince Marco has said that there is something he wants to tell his people. It can only mean one thing. What a change this will be for the island. There are already mutterings that Prince Marco wants to make too many changes too quickly, and that these could stir up unrest…’
Whilst the commentator talked over the last notes of the Nirolian national anthem, Emily focused feverishly on Marco’s face. This could be the last time she would ever see him.
‘People of Niroli…’ he said in Italian. Tears stung Emily’s eyes as she read the English subtitles at the bottom of the screen. She could hear the strength of purpose in Marco’s voice as he went on, ‘What I have to tell you today causes me great joy and also great sadness. Great joy, because when I leave you I shall be making the most important commitment a man ever can make, a commitment to the future through the next generation. Great sadness, because, in order to do that, I must abdicate my responsibility to you, the people of Niroli—’
Emily could almost feel the ripple of shock surging through the listening crowd. Her own thoughts were in turmoil. What was Marco doing? What was he saying? He was Niroli’s future king and nothing could or should change that. She had listened to his passionate diatribes against his grandfather and she had known his fierce longing to do something to help his people. And yet now he was saying.
Marco was still speaking, so she moved closer to the screen.
‘It is my belief that Niroli and its people need a ruler with a different mindset from my own, a ruler who can combine the best of the old ways with a new path into the twenty-first century. I am not that man, as both my grandfather and I have agreed. King Giorgio needs an heir to step into his shoes whom he can trust to preserve all that is good in our traditions. Niroli also needs a new king who can take it forward into the future. With the best will in the world, I cannot be that king.’
A low murmur of objection filled the air accompanied by younger male voices shouting angrily and declaring, according to the TV commentator, that Marco was the king they wanted. Tomasso and his friends, Emily guessed.
‘Do not think, though, my people, that I am desert
ing you, for I am not. I am soon to be the father of a child, and that knowledge has taught me how important the bond is between parent and child, between generation and generation, between a ruler and his people. My love for my child fills me and humbles me, and reinforces in me my love for the people of Niroli. It is out of this love—both for my child and for you, my people—that I am stepping down from the succession line to the throne, but never think that I am deserting you. I intend to set up a charity which will make available funds to help those citizens of Niroli who are most in need. It will provide the opportunity for our young people to be educated and to travel abroad, to broaden their horizons and then bring back to Niroli the gift of what they have learned so that they may share it. It is my passionate belief that this island needs a better system for encouraging its young to reach their full potential. I can do this best from outside the hierarchy of kingship and all that goes with it. At the same time, I shall remain at all times supportive of my grandfather and whoever he chooses to take the throne after him.
‘I ask for your blessing, people of Niroli, and your understanding that sometimes it is more important for a man to be just that, than for him to be a king…’
‘Excuse me, love, only we’re about to close the store.’ Her gaze blurred with her tears, Emily looked at the young man who was addressing her. Marco had left the balcony. The young man was looking impatient. Reluc-tantly, she nodded her head and headed for the exit.
It wasn’t a long walk from the shops back to her house, but it was long enough for Emily to mentally question what Marco had done. He had told his people that he was giving up the throne because of his child—her child. Why? Marco was arrogant and proud, a perfectionist; did he—or his grandfather—fear the existence of a child who was not perfect might somehow damage the power of the Nirolian royal family? Had his grandfather pressured Marco into stepping down, or had his own resolve spurred his abdication? Either way, she had no wish to be a party to depriving Niroli of its future king, and nor did she want her son growing up carrying the burden and the blame for his father’s decision to deny himself a role Emily knew he had been eager to take on.
She turned the corner into her street and then stopped, her heart hammering against her ribs as she saw Marco standing outside the front door of her house. Ridiculously, her first impulse was to turn and walk away, but he had already seen her and he was walking towards her.
‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded when he reached her. ‘I’ve only just seen you on television! Marco, you can’t give up the Crown. Why have you? It isn’t—’
‘It isn’t your decision,’ Marco told her calmly. ‘It was mine, and as for you seeing me on TV, well, it must have been on a rolling news programme rounding up the day’s events. I made my resignation speech at eleven a.m. this morning, Nirolian time. I had a private jet standing by, another personal decision, before you ask,’ he added dryly.
‘It isn’t fair of you to do this and to say publicly that it’s because of my baby,’ she told him passionately. ‘Isn’t he going to have enough to cope with, without the added blame of being responsible for—’
‘We can’t discuss this out here,’ Marco interrupted her. ‘Where are your keys?’
Helplessly, Emily handed them over and let him open the door for her.
The small house smelled of Emily’s delicate scent, Marco recognised, also realising how much he had missed her. Soon, no doubt, the air around her would be filled with the scent of baby powder. With every mile that had brought him closer to her, his conviction that he had made the right decision had grown and, now, recognising how much he was looking forward to being part of the family unit they would form with their child was like one door closing behind him on an old habitat that no longer had any relevance to his life and another opening that had everything to do with it.
‘There was no need for you to abdicate, Marco,’ Emily burst out as soon as they were inside. ‘I know how much you wanted to be King, so why?’
‘If you had heard my speech in its entirety, then you would have known why I decided to step down, and why it was necessary for me to abdicate.’
‘Because of our baby? Because he might not be perfect? Because you’re ashamed of him, and you and your grandfather don’t want him associated with Niroli?’
‘What? Ashamed of him? You wouldn’t be more wrong. If there’s anyone I’m ashamed of, it’s myself for taking so long to recognise what really matters to me. Or perhaps I did recognise it, but tried to pretend that I didn’t. Emily, when you were having your scan and I saw our baby, I knew beyond any kind of doubt that you and he are the most important things in the world to me, and that nothing could ever or would ever matter more. Actually, I think I knew a little of that when I first came to Niroli and I missed you so much I had to come back for you. I certainly knew it when you told me you were pregnant and all I could think of was finding a way to keep you with me. I couldn’t and wouldn’t accept that it wasn’t possible for me to be King and to have you and our child. And then you told me why you were pleased that our child would never be King, and it was as though you had unlocked a door inside me. Behind it lay the memories of my own childhood, my parents’ constant battles with my grandfather to provide me with a normal childhood, my own sense of aloneness because of what I was, and I knew unequivocally that you were right not to want that for our child.’
‘But you wanted to be King! You had so many plans, there was so much you wanted to do—you can’t give that up.’
‘I don’t intend to. I can still do all those things without being King. In fact I can do them more easily. My grandfather would never really release the reins of government to me, and the hostility between us and the constant fight for supremacy would not aid our people. I can do far more outside the constraints of kingship, and I can do those things with you at my side. I love you, Emily.’
There was so much she wanted to say, so many questions, so many reminders to him of times when he had not seemed to love her at all. But, somehow, she was in his arms and he was kissing her with a fierce, demanding passion that said more clearly than any amount of words what he truly felt.
‘I still can’t believe this is happening,’ Emily whispered to Marco half an hour later. She was still in his arms, only now they were upstairs in her bedroom, lying side by side in her bed. The way Marco had controlled his need to possess her, been gentle to protect their child, had brought emotional tears to her eyes and flooded her heart with the love for him she had dammed up for so long.
‘You want me to convince you?’ Marco teased her suggestively, his hand cupping her breast.
‘Maybe,’ she agreed mock-demurely.
His, ‘Right, come on then, let’s get dressed,’ wasn’t the response she had been expecting and her chagrin showed, making him laugh.
‘We’re going shopping,’ he told her. ‘For a wedding ring and a marriage licence.’
When her eyes rounded, he pointed out, ‘You said you wanted me to convince you. I can’t think of a better way to do that than marrying you, just as soon as we can arrange it.’
‘Oh, Marco… Shouldn’t we wait to make plans until after the scan?’
‘Why? The potential severity of our baby’s heart defect doesn’t make any difference to my feelings for you or for him. You suggested earlier that I might be ashamed of our baby for not being perfect. That could never happen. He will be perfect to me, Emily, because he is ours, perfect in every way, no matter what.’
‘Oh, don’t,’ Emily protested. ‘You’ll make me cry all over again.’
‘And then I’ll have to kiss you all over again,’ Marco said, pretending to give a weary sigh, but smiling whilst he did so.
‘Well, then, let’s have a look. It’s been a few weeks since we did your last scan, and that will have given your baby a chance to grow and us the chance to get a better idea of what’s going on. As I told you at your first consultation with me, these days, in-utero surgery means that we can do so very mu
ch more than we once could. Even with the most severe cases.’
Emily felt Marco squeezing her hand, but she dared not look at him just in case she broke down.
These last weeks since their initial appointment with the neo-natal heart consultant had seemed so long, despite the fact that they had managed to squeeze getting married into them, along with a flying visit to Niroli, where Marco’s grandfather had very graciously welcomed her formally into the family. Marco had also brought his grandfather up to date with his plans to establish the charity he had promised during his abdication speech.
New scans had been done, and now they were waiting anxiously for the specialist’s opinion.
‘However, in the case of your baby, I don’t consider that an operation would be appropriate.’
Emily gave a small moan of despair. Was he saying there was no hope? ‘What exactly is our baby’s prognosis?’ Marco’s voice wasn’t quite as level as normal, and Emily could hear the uncertainty in it.
‘Very good. Excellent, in fact,’ the specialist told them, smiling. ‘There is a small area that we shall need to keep an eye on, but if anything it seems to be healing itself—something we do see with this condition. Sometimes babies will grow in stops and starts, and this leads us to make diagnoses we later have to amend. That is what has happened here. Initially, it did look as though your baby’s heart might not be developing properly, but these latest scans show that everything is just as it should be.’
‘Are you sure?’ Emily asked anxiously. ‘I mean, should I have another scan in a week or two? What if—?’
‘I am perfectly sure. In fact, I was pretty sure when you first came to see me, but I wanted to wait and see how things went before I said anything, which is why I wanted to do this last scan. Of course, I am going to recommend that we continue to monitor the situation, just to be on the safe side, but my view is that there is nothing for you to worry about. Your baby is perfectly healthy and developing normally.’