The King's Bride

by Lucy Gordon

  ‘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 letters.’

  ‘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.’

  ‘What about your wife?’ Lizzie asked.

  ‘I married when I was nineteen. She was twenty-four. We weren’t in love. It was a state marriage, and we were raised to the idea of duty.’

  ‘But didn’t you ever fall in love?’

  ‘She was in love with someone else. We didn’t talk about it. Now I look back, we didn’t talk about anything, which may be why we managed to remain on cordial terms until she died. If people don’t talk to each other, there’s nothing to quarrel about.’

  ‘You poor soul,’ Lizzie said, meaning it.

  ‘She’s the one you should feel sorry for. She was forced to separate from the man she loved and marry a silly boy. She

  suffered an arid marriage with only her children to console her, and died before her life could get any better.’

  ‘How did she die?’

  ‘A fall from her horse. She was a reckless rider. Maybe she was trying to ease the frustrations of her life.’ He gave a bitter laugh, directed at himself. ‘You should have heard my romantic notions as a bridegroom. Despite the odds, I’d convinced myself that we might fall in love. I’d have gladly loved her. She was beautiful. But the other man was always there in her heart, and I never had a chance.’

  ‘Did you know who he was?’

  ‘Oh, yes, he was a splendid fellow, just right for her. A nervous teenager had no chance of winning her heart. I honour her for her fidelity to me. I know she never wavered. But, poor woman, it was a bleak business for her!’

  ‘And for you,’ Lizzie said sympathetically.

  The picture he’d painted for her was vivid: the lonely boy, longing for some love in a world that had given him none and finding only a wife as deprived as himself. The handsome, apparently confident man before her was a shell. Inside him the ‘nervous teenager’ still lived, and probably always would, unless another woman’s touch could heal his wounds.

  Thinking of nothing but to comfort him, she laid her hand on his cheek, searching his face. He raised his eyes to hers and she was shocked at their defencelessness. They were on his ground. By all the rules he should be in control. But something in that letter had broken his control by revealing his own loneliness to him in cruel colours. No woman found the world beautiful because he was in it, and the knowledge broke his heart. Now he was reaching out blindly to her in his need, and she responded with her own need.

  For she was as vulnerable as he. Bess had said she was too armoured, implying that if she didn’t soon give a man her heart-all of it, with nothing held back-Lizzie was in danger of becoming hard. Her head told her that Daniel could never be the right man. She’d meant only to entice him into letting her win their duel of wits, but suddenly everything was different. She ached for him. She longed to ease his sadness, and everything went down before that. All self forgotten, caring only for him, she put her arms about him.

  His own arms went about her at once, and they stood together in a long, close embrace. At first he didn’t try to kiss her, but buried his face against her as though finding there some long sought refuge.

  ‘Lizzie,’ he whispered, then again, ‘Lizzie, Lizzie…’ Just her name repeated over and over, as though the very sound was a spell to ward off evil.

  It was sweet to hold him, feeling the warmth of his body mingle with her own, and for the moment that was all she asked. Then she felt the change that came over him as his lips found her neck and began to bestow soft kisses. She sighed with pleasure and began to wreathe her fingers in his hair, turning her neck this way and that to tempt his mouth.

  Lower the trail went, down her neck to her almost exposed breasts in the low-cut nightdress, lower still, lower, and every fibre of her being was crying yes. She would be cautious another time. This was the man she wanted.

  He raised his head. She could feel him trembling. ‘You make it very hard to remember that I’m a man of honour,’ he growled.

  ‘Perhaps you remember that too often. Is being a man of honour so important?’

  ‘It has to be-it must be-’ he said, as if trying to convince himself. He took her face between his hands, speaking softly and with sincerity. ‘Lizzie, will you believe me? I didn’t come here tonight meaning this to happen.’

  ‘Yes, I believe you.’ It was true. Beneath the regimented exterior was a man who could be impulsive. ‘It doesn’t matter. Don’t plan everything. Let things happen to you. It’ll be all right. Trust me-trust me-’

  And then she felt him freeze suddenly.

  ‘What did you say?’ he asked in a strange voice.

  ‘Trust me.’ She kissed him playfully. ‘Don’t you think you could trust me now?’

  Bewildered, she knew that a change had come over him. He almo
st snatched his hand out of hers.

  ‘It isn’t that,’ he said, sounding as though he spoke with difficulty. ‘But I-I really shouldn’t be here. This isn’t right.’

  ‘I see.’ Her eyes flashed. ‘Then you don’t trust me. How stupid of me to forget.’

  ‘Lizzie, please, it isn’t that. It’s just that I-I can’t explain.’

  ‘Or you don’t need to. You lured me here as an enemy, and I’m still an enemy, aren’t I? What a pity you confided so much to me tonight. And me a historian! Who knows who I’ll tell? Or what indiscreet notes I might make.’

  He was pale. ‘Will you?’

  ‘Of course not. You shouldn’t have asked me that!’

  ‘I didn’t mean to. I don’t know what came over me-at least, I can’t explain-’

  ‘I think you already have.’

  His tone became more distant. ‘There’s still a lot we don’t know about each other, and perhaps we should both be careful.’

  She matched his distant tone with one of her own. ‘I think Your Majesty had better leave.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps I should.’

  He gave her a small, correct little bow, and went out through the secret door.

  She hurried after him and slammed the bolts shut. Then she leaned against the door, resisting the impulse to call him back.

  The next morning Frederick brought her a large bag containing the rest of Liz’s letters, explaining that he was acting on the King’s instructions. His Majesty had left the palace unexpectedly to visit Helmand, his private estate a hundred miles away, and would be gone for some time.

  After that she lived in limbo. She didn’t know how long Daniel would be away, or whether he meant her to leave before he returned. She only knew that she was furious with him, insulted by him, and yearned for him.

  The letters were a goldmine, but a frustrating one. Liz must surely be Dame Elizabeth, since the pattern of her life seemed to follow the Dame’s so exactly. But although there were a thousand hints, there was still no certainty.

  The more she read the more she longed for Daniel to be there. There was such love in these pages, and with every passing day she felt an affinity with the writer. ‘Liz’ had seen an aching need beneath Alphonse’s forbidding exterior that had called forth her love and protectiveness. That was their secret. In the world’s eyes he was a man of power, but it was she who had protected him.

  Daniel was Daniel and not Alphonse, and history never actually repeated itself. But he’d been moulded by the same conditions as his grandfather and left emotionally adrift in the

  same way. And she knew now that something in him had called to her from the first moment.

  Several times she rode with the children. They seemed to like her, and she found them increasingly easy to talk to. Even Sandor’s quicksilver temper was controlled in her presence, Elsa was showing signs of a pretty wit, and Felix was beginning to come out of his shell.

  They were walking through the woods one afternoon, with Sandor telling them all a funny story, when a sound made them all look up. Daniel was walking through the trees. He wore an informal opennecked shirt, and had something in his arms that squealed and squirmed. Closer inspection revealed it to be three puppies, each about eight weeks.

  ‘A bitch whelped in the Helmand stables a while back,’ he said. ‘Here you are. One each. Now, be off with you.’

  Shouting joyfully, the children took charge of the wriggling bundles, and scampered away.

  Daniel stood looking at Lizzie. She hadn’t taken her eyes from him since the first moment. Nor had she been able to move. But suddenly movement returned to her. He opened his arms and she threw herself into them.

  ‘I’ve missed you,’ he said between kisses. ‘I went away from you, but it did no good. You came with me. You’ve been with me all the while. You won’t go away.’

  It was the same with her, and she knew he understood her without words.

  ‘You’re in my heart for always,’ he said. ‘At first I thought you might leave while I was gone, and it would be better for both of us if you did. But this morning I awoke in the early hours and I was so afraid in case you’d left that I had to come home. Kiss me, kiss me.’

  She responded wholeheartedly, throwing her arms about his neck and giving herself up to the sensation of loving and being loved.

  ‘I’ve so much to say to you, Lizzie, and you-have you nothing to say to me?’

  ‘Oh, yes, so much.’ She took his hand and began to draw him deeper into the wood.

  But when he took her in his arms again she discovered that there was nothing to say, or at least nothing that couldn’t wait. They clung together like people who’d narrowly avoided falling into an abyss.

  A giggle from nearby made them both swing around quickly.

  ‘What are you three-?’ Daniel began to yell. Then the urgent pressure of Lizzie’s hands checked him. ‘I thought you’d gone,’ he said, sounding resigned.

  ‘We’re sorry, sir,’ Felix said quickly. His laugh had faded and he looked anxious.

  ‘You’re not annoyed, are you?’ Lizzie muttered, so softly that only he could hear.

  ‘No, I’m not annoyed.’ Something about their tense faces seemed to get through to him because he added quickly, ‘I’m not angry. Really.’

  They visibly relaxed and the smiles began to creep back to their faces, but cautiously, as though ready to vanish again in an instant.

  ‘We came back to say thank you for the puppies,’ Sandor said.

  ‘Have fun with them. But you look after them yourselves. You feed them, clean up after them.’

  Sandor frowned. ‘But there are servants-’

  ‘No servants, you do it.’ Then Daniel grew still and raised

  his head, as though listening for silent music in the air. Lizzie held her breath, sure that she knew the thought that had come to him. She was certain of it when he added, ‘If you don’t feed those dogs, nobody does. So their lives are in your hands.’

  The children nodded eagerly and raced off. But when they’d gone Daniel frowned, saying, ‘Why did I say that? Of course they haven’t got time to-’

  ‘Yes, they have,’ Lizzie said, clasping his hand. ‘You did the right thing. Perhaps we’d better get back.’

  ‘Yes, we don’t want any more little spies,’ he said, moving off, still with her hand in his.

  That evening she dined with Daniel and the children. It was a happy party, with everyone more relaxed than Lizzie had ever seen them. They kept to safe topics, like dog care, and to Lizzie’s surprise Daniel proved an expert.

  ‘I had to care for my own dog when I was a child,’ he explained.

  ‘But suppose you had to be away, sir?’ Felix asked, frowning.

  Daniel winced. ‘I’d rather you didn’t call me sir.’

  ‘But you’ve never said anything before,’ Sandor pointed out.

  He looked surprised. ‘I’ve never noticed before.’

  ‘But what shall we say instead?’ Elsa wanted to know.

  That confused them, making Lizzie realise that the next step was still a big one.

  ‘Let’s sort it out later,’ she said quickly. ‘Felix wants to know what you did about the puppy when you were away.’

  ‘Then I could delegate someone to do it for me, but it was my job to pick them and explain everything.’

  ‘Father!’ Sandor said suddenly. ‘Or Poppa. Or Papa.’

  ‘Dad? Daddy?’ Lizzie said, then cunningly corrected herself, ‘No, I shouldn’t have said that. They’re much too informal. Quite improper.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Daniel said at once.

  They finally settled on Dad for the boys and Daddy for Elsa. Daniel’s eyes met Lizzie’s across the table, silently smiling, telling her he understood her little trick.

  When the youngsters had gone to bed Daniel said, ‘Did you get what I left you?’

  ‘The rest of the letters? Yes, thank you. It was wonderful of you.’

  ‘Did you make anything
of them?’

  ‘A good deal, and I think you did too.’

  He shrugged. ‘I must confess I haven’t read them all in detail, just well enough for a general idea of what they were.’

  ‘I think you noticed more than you realise.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Come with me and I’ll show you.’

  In her room she unlocked the drawer where she kept all the letters, and took out one of the first. ‘Tell me about the dog you looked after,’ she said.

  ‘He was called Tiger. A stupid name because he was just a scruffy mongrel who wandered in one day and attached himself to me. You should have heard the commotion. Only a pedigree animal was suitable for the Crown Prince. But my grandfather let me keep him. He said-’

  ‘Yes?’ Lizzie asked.

  Speaking as in a dream, Daniel replied, ‘He said, “He’s your responsibility. If you don’t feed him, nobody else will. His life is in your hands.” So that’s why-today, when I said those words-’

  ‘You were remembering when you last heard them.’

  ‘Yes, I see that, but what does this have to do with a letter?’

  ‘Look at that,’ she said, holding one out to him. ‘Halfway down the page.’

  And there it was, in Liz’s words.

  You talk about teaching Daniel responsibility, but you mean lectures and theory. Give the poor child a dog and let him choose it for himself. He will learn more about responsibility from a creature he loves, and who depends on him entirely, than from all the lessons in books.

  ‘So that was why he did it,’ Daniel said, sitting slowly on the bed, his attention riveted on the paper in his hand. ‘It came from her. Then I’m in her debt for years of happiness. And she was right, of course. It was all here, but when I first glanced over this letter I missed it.’

  ‘You weren’t ready. Not like now.’

  ‘I really hope Liz is your great-aunt. Not that there’s any real doubt of it, but I’m beginning to understand so much-how he depended on her. She must have been the most important person in his life, just as you-’ He stopped and looked at her. ‘Lizzie, darling, I’m not imagining this, am I?’

  ‘Imagination?’ she teased. ‘You?’