by Banks, Evie
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
IT WAS A FULL TWO DAYS before Renee even considered stirring from her bed. She could hear the others talking in low voices on the other side of the door. Leanne sang softly, trying to teach a country song to Cassandra. Renee remembered singing this same song with her mother on the front porch while her father rocked in his chair, and the memory was like a punch in the gut. She rolled over. Her stomach rumbled, but she couldn’t bring herself to touch the sandwich that had been left on the bedside table for her. The marvelous cart of food that was rolled in three times a day was always sent back out again untouched. When Roberts saw that not even the coffee cup had been used, he became concerned. “Didn’t even drink the coffee,” he muttered to himself. “It must be serious, indeed. Americans don’t function without their coffee.”
A few times she had tried dialing Chase’s mobile, but all she ever got was a recorded message.
The door creaked open and she hid her head under the blanket. She heard Roberts whisper to the others, “She still hasn’t touched the food.” After he closed the door again, she gently picked up the telephone and dialed the number to Chase’s office. After navigating a confusing menu of choices, she finally reached the desk of a human being in Chase’s department.
Renee cleared her throat and did her best to imitate Chase’s accent. “Yes, hello, I’m calling for my brother, Philip Chase. This is his sister and I…um…want to confirm the Christmas present for our mother.”
A very bored sounding male secretary answered. “Mr. Chase is currently on paid holiday and it is unknown when he will return. Mr. Chase has no sister and he definitely does not have a sister who cannot decide if she is from Wales or East London. Good day.”
The line went dead before Renee could tell the secretary what he could do with that attitude, but just then there was a tap on the door and Renee quickly replaced the phone. Audrey peeked in and then entered with a tray of her carrot cake cupcakes—the ones that should have won the prize at the contest that was best left unmentioned—and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Come on, duckie. You can’t stay like this. Here, have a nibble of a cupcake. Gran put a spot of rum in it for you.”
Renee pulled the blanket over her head. “It’s over, Audrey. All this business about me being royalty—it was hogwash from the start. Rufus has complete control over my life. He can smear me in the papers, he can make me homeless, he can cut off the funds. I’m just as dependant on him as I was on Ray and look how that turned out.” Renee began to choke up. “He can even remove people from my life.”
Audrey snatched the blanket from Renee’s head. “Well, he can’t remove me. I’d just love to see him try. What is it you’re really moping over? Did you fancy that security man? He was a drop in the hot pot, wasn’t he? Did he fancy you back?”
“I don’t know,” cried Renee. “I thought he did, but he just walked out. And now he’s gone on vacation without saying a word to me.”
“Then he’s not worth crying over. And I may be wrong, but I thought I saw a bunch of flowers out there with a card signed by Simon Coakely. He’s well known on the social scene; everybody’s trying to land him. And here’s another thing that might make you feel better.” Audrey pulled from her bag a large manila folder and handed it to Renee, who opened it and sat straight up in bed.
“How did you get these?” asked Renee, pulling out the large, clear, easily identifiable photos of Ray snuggling with a woman that was definitely not Renee. His wedding ring was visible.
“If you’ll notice the calendar in the background, it gives a date that is well prior to the tragedy at the Royal Grand Reunion. One of his chippies posted it on her webpage. He can’t say you didn’t have cause to divorce him or even do a little of your own fooling about.”
“But I didn’t!” said Renee.
“Yes, dear, I know,” said Audrey, patiently. “But these photos kind of let you off the hook in the morals department,” said Audrey.
Renee shook her head, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. “We must look so trashy.”
“Not any trashier than the royals are wont to act. It’s par for the course, really.”
Renee leapt across the bed and caught a surprised Audrey in a tight hug.
“Thanks for making me feel better. It doesn’t fix the other problems, but at least the rest of the world will get to know Ray like I know him. I don’t know what I ever saw in him,” she said sadly, looking at the picture and feeling all the weight of spent years and wasted love.
“Chin up. Once your divorce goes through, you’ll be the most eligible bachelorette in the country, possibly on the planet.”
“Right. I’m sure the men will be lining up to take on a divorcee with a pre-teen child. And, oh yeah, you’ll never have a private moment to yourself ever!” Renee started giggling out of sheer hysteria.
Audrey looked alarmed and patted her on the arm like she was a mental patient in need of calming.
“Don’t worry, honey. There will always be somebody who will love you and your problems.” Renee followed Audrey’s meaningful glance out the open bedroom door to the bouquet of flowers on the table.
Audrey jumped off the bed and clapped her hands in a businesslike way. “Sulking time is over. Why don’t you go have a good soak and then doll yourself up?”
“Why would I want to do that?” asked Renee, not feeling in the least like ending her appointment with her bed.
“Because I’ve booked you to attend the premier of ‘Silver Badge of the West’ tonight. It’s Hollywood. It’s cowboys. It’s gorgeous movie stars. It’s you in the paper tomorrow looking fab instead of drab because you’re not hiding your face as you run by saying, no comment. Get it? And tomorrow you will volunteer in an animal shelter cleaning dogs and mucking out the cages. And the day after that you will visit some veterans—”
Renee’s jaw dropped. “Why are we doing all this?”
“Because we have only one week until the deadline and we are going to bombard them with images of you being spectacular.” Her fist fell in her hand like a hammer. Audrey dragged Renee out of the bed and pushed her in the direction of the bathroom.
“Why are you being so mean?” complained Renee.
“Because I’m a loyal citizen. Now start exfoliating!”
* * *
Renee did have a spectacular time at the premier and got to wear the star’s cowboy hat, which both of them autographed and promised to auction for charity.
Although she still resented what Rufus had done, she couldn’t take any more time for self-pity because Bretton was also on the move.
The season had changed from Fall to Winter almost overnight and Bretton was photographed in romantic poses with his arms out in the falling snow, or watching Italian cars race around a course, or looking thoughtfully out over a gray English Channel. It made her sick. “The Most Dashing Ascendant to the Throne Since Henry VIII” pronounced one paper. “Well, if you like beheadings,” sniffed Roberts. Renee shivered. She had not forgotten how close his hands had come to ringing her neck.
“Why isn’t anyone discussing his criminal past?” she demanded once of Audrey and Roberts. “How can you be on trial for killing three people and never have it mentioned?”
“Libel laws,” said Audrey. “They are very strict here. If you even hint at something that turns out not to be true or cannot be proved as true, the offended party can sue for libel and take everything you’ve got. Bretton was cleared.”
“He wasn’t cleared. There was a mistrial due to a witness turning up dead,” said Renee.
“Well, whatever it was, once he’s been let go in the USA, it can hardly be brought up here as a legitimate topic.”
This seemed very backwards to Renee.
“But the First Amendment allows us to talk about anything we want,” protested Renee.
“In America dear, but you’re not there anymore. The Constitution doesn’t cover the United Kingdom.”
Renee was appalled
to discover that the freedom of speech wasn’t a universal concept. “This seems like a flaw. We’ll have to see what we can do about that.”
Audrey’s red hair seemed to crackle on end. “You are not going to fiddle with 800 years of history! That’s what people are afraid of: Americans swaggering in here and changing our traditions.”
“I don’t swagger and I’m not going to mess with anything. Improve maybe….”
She let the subject drop, but Bretton’s popularity was a problem and the fact that she wasn’t allowed to point out that he was possibly a psychopathic murderer made her job harder because even though there was no “campaign” occurring, two sides had definitely emerged in the weeks running up to the deadline for the passage of the Bill of Succession. Bretton attracted women, young people who followed celebrity news, celebrities, media folk and the Labour Party. Renee’s supporters consisted of the League of Royal Bastards, Britchford, and, well, that was about it. Perhaps also Hutch and the blue haired women who watched his show.
She wasn’t the only one making the effort. During every Prime Minister’s Hour, Britchford stood and hammered Rufus regarding the Bill of Succession.
“When?” thundered Britchford. “When will there be a name on the bill? If we do not meet the deadline, the monarchy will disappear from British life forever. Are we to be held hostage by a gang of radicals?”
Rufus countered in turn. “And are we to be forced into a hasty decision by overeager monarchist sycophants? One tragedy has befallen us already and we do not want to be forced into another one. Two candidates have presented themselves and our investigations are ongoing.”
Erastus, too, was busy. He used every connection he could through the League to persuade Members of Parliament or other prominent folks to publically commit to Renee. “Money talks and I’ve got a lot of it,” he said to Renee. Despite his bluster, Renee knew he was worried. The days were running down and soon the deadline was upon them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
RENEE PACED BRITCHFORD’S cramped chamber in Parliament and bit her nails.
“So this is it. After all this, we’re packing our bags and going home tomorrow.”
“That’s a little fatalistic, Ma’am. This isn’t over yet,” said Roberts and turned back to the monitor.
Britchford was not there. He was in the House of Commons with a mobile phone plastered to each ear, trying to get influential people to call their Labour representative to vote for Renee, while Rufus stumped among the benches exhorting members of his party to vote his way. The second attempt to bring a vote had been aborted just like the first. A few votes had turned in Renee’s favor after the first attempt, but the same number had turned against her.
Renee didn’t think she could take it any more. She had watched the process from a monitor in the chamber and paced the room until she was sure she would owe Britchford the cost of a new rug. Outside of Parliament traffic was at a standstill for all the roads approaching the government buildings were packed shoulder to shoulder with people awaiting the outcome. It was a crystal clear and cold night. A million puffs of breath rose into the air like smoke, just the reminder that Renee didn’t need. Renee tapped a cigarette against a table, but didn’t smoke it for Cassandra’s sake. She had been tapping it against the table all evening. In the corner, Audrey was issuing instructions over the phone: “Of course she’ll win! But if she doesn’t, reserve slots on all the major morning shows. The theme will be ‘the triumph of style over substance.’”
The last vote had happened an hour ago. Another one was scheduled in ten minutes. Britchford’s office was hot and full of tension. Cassandra’s face was pressed to the glass watching the people outside while Leanne plucked nervously at her faux rabbit fur scarf. “If you don’t win are they still going to give you an allowance for second place or something?”
The tension was too much; no one would notice if Renee ducked out for a minute to smoke her cigarette. She held it up for Harry to see and they slipped out the door together and were almost run over by staff assistants and Parliamentarians running here and there. Everyone was shouting into mobile phones and at each other. At the other end of the hall she saw Bretton conferring with one of Rufus’s aides. He must have felt her eyes on him because he looked up and smirked. His pale eyes unsettled her even from the great distance he stood from her. She turned and walked in the other direction. Harry followed. No one paid them any attention. She walked swiftly and found herself in a crowded, ornate hall. At any other time she would have been stunned by the beautiful windows, the soaring ceilings and the intricately carved walls. Even the floors were magnificent. But right now she simply needed a quiet spot to gather her thoughts because this was it. She was certain that it would be finished with the next vote. She found herself pushed ahead and jostled as people raced past her. She felt Harry’s light touch on her elbow as he endeavored to guard her in the crush. A bell sounded. “Vote in five minutes. Everyone in the Chamber, vote in five minutes!” Renee tried to break free of the crowd, but couldn’t fight the flow of traffic and before she knew it, she and Harry were in the House of Commons.
“Trying to manipulate the vote, are you?” said a gruff voice. Rufus glowered down at her from an upper bench. “Doesn’t matter. The votes are locked up.” He turned and shouted at the members of his party as they filled the benches. “Anyone who votes ‘Aye’ will be cut off from reelection funding. Do you hear me? CUT OFF!”
“Oh, my dear, so good of you to come for this historic vote,” said Britchford, bustling forward. He looked anxious but determined. “We have a couple of waverers, but your presence will remind them of what’s at stake.”
Renee didn’t really want to be there—she felt sick to her stomach—but Britchford was already leading her to a place to sit, while Harry remained by the door. A bell rang. “This is it,” said Britchford, “The vote is about to begin.”
Members still had phones clamped to their ears and they looked about anxiously, as if trying to divine how the others were going to vote. A vote of “aye” meant that the bill would pass with Renee’s name on it. If it didn’t pass, then they would have to have another round of voting with Bretton’s name on it. If that also failed then they would continue to vote until one of them passed. If a bill didn’t pass by midnight then the monarchy would disappear from Great Britain forever. There were a lot more Labour members than Tory ones. Renee checked her watch. It was 11pm.
“Time to vote, close the doors!” someone shouted.
A dark figure slipped in. Bretton. He glanced at her and went to sit beside Prime Minister Rufus. He looked thoroughly at ease.
Nearly everyone was seated.
Rufus approached Britchford. “Well, what say you? Are you ready to back full monetary union with Europe in exchange for her?” He jerked his head in Renee’s direction.
Britchford threw back his shoulders and lifted his chin. “We will prevail tonight without caving in to blackmail. The loss of the monarchy will be on your shoulders.”
“Loss? Who said anything about loss? We have option number two sitting right behind me.”
Britchford looked over Rufus’s shoulder at Bretton. “It will be a great loss for the monarchy, indeed.”
“No deal, then?”
Britchford shook his head. “No deal.”
Rufus returned to his side in a huff.
“DOORS ARE CLOSING!”
Renee gripped the edge of seat. Britchford patted her hand and then turned around to stare at his people. His instructions were clear.
The Speaker, dressed in a black robe and white wig, stood to address the House. “The question is whether to pass this Bill of Succession instating Georgina Renee Montshire Krebs as the Queen of the United Kingdom and Ireland, and head of the Church of England, to form a new dynasty and serve as sovereign.” Renee held her breath. “All in favor, say Aye.”
The thunder of Ayes shook her to the bone.
“All opposed, say No.”
The boo
m of Noes was equally loud.
She couldn’t tell which side carried the question. It was too close to call. Her heart pounded.
Britchford jumped to his feet. “I motion for a division of the assembly!”
A cascade of boos from Rufus’s side rained upon him.
The Speaker yelled, “Motion granted. Clear the Lobby!” and there was a loud noise of everyone getting to their feet at once.
Renee turned to Britchford. “What happens now?”
“The ‘ayes’ will go in that direction to be counted,” he waved his hand to one end of the room, “and the ‘noes’ will go in that direction—Abernathy, I see what you’re up to, now get back here!” Britchford grabbed the arm of a man who had been going in the direction of the noes and pushed him towards the ayes, where most of Britchford’s party congregated. Renee was heartened to see that several Labour MP’s were heading in that direction also. Britchford excused himself to chase down another straying Tory.
Rufus, meanwhile, was red in the face from yelling at the renegade members of his party—“Your political careers are finished!” They remained silent and stood stiffly among the contingent of Tories. Even with these defections, Renee still couldn’t tell at a glance which side would carry the day.
As the House separated into the two camps, Renee and Bretton were the only ones left sitting. His face was like a cold mask and when his eyes met hers, she felt a terrible fury bubble up inside her.