by Rachel Hauck
“What reasons? They’re rubbish.” Blinky squeezed Daffy’s hands. “As for later, Daffy, darling, make him change his mind.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Gus
“Hello, love—what are you doing here?” Gus stopped working on a chair leg when a slight shadow fell in the workshop Saturday afternoon. Daffy. He blew a breath to shift his wild bangs from his eyes. “Lucy said you went home for the weekend.”
The news had affected his mood, like clouds moving in to block the sunshine. Daffy had said nothing of going home during dinner Thursday. But she didn’t owe him any explanations. Spending the afternoon with Emmanuel in the workshop was a blessed distraction.
The two of them had swapped stories, sharing the crazy antics of their friends. Gus thought he’d topped the older man when he recounted the time Sorrels jumped from their third floor bedroom window to hide from the headmaster, using a sheet as a parachute.
“Broke his leg in two places.”
Then the carpenter regaled him with a story of a mate who attempted to walk on water.
“Are you serious? Was he drunk?”
“Very serious and very sober. I thought he had the faith for it. I told him to give it a go. But in the end…” Emmanuel shook his head. “I suppose I shouldn’t laugh. It wasn’t so funny at the time. But looking back…”
And now, Daffy inched closer, her countenance somber. “I was home and now I’m here. How’s the chair? We need it done soon.”
“It’s coming along nicely.” He motioned for her to inspect his handiwork. With Emmanuel’s help, he’d attached the legs to the seat and was about to sand and stain. “We’ll have to redo all the stain, but we found a proper match.”
The carpenter gave a silent nod to Daffy and lifted his teacup.
“Will it be ready when the guests arrive?” She ran her hand over the now-smooth leg. “I wonder if King Titus really fashioned this Doric column, or if someone put these legs on later. This style was used widely in the sixteenth and seventeenth century.”
“I wish we could know.” Gus glanced at Emmanuel. “Don’t suppose you know, do you?”
He shrugged. “I know what you’re doing is good. Let’s keep going. Daffy, are you all right?”
“Of course.” But she looked as if she’d lost her best friend. “Emmanuel, do you know a woman named Adelaide? She said you told her to give me a box holding a blue gown.”
“I know Adelaide well. I thought you’d like the dress. Doesn’t it fit your needs?”
“It does. We’re using it for the Unknown Bride. But I find it odd that the gown once belonged to Queen Catherine II.”
“All the more reason you should use it.”
“Yes, but how did Adelaide get it? And why did you tell her to give it to me? How did you even know I would go to Shop Vintage? Why do you care?”
“Adelaide and I are old friends. I told her if you visited to give you the box. And I care because that’s who I am.”
“Was the dress yours to give? It was a Taffron Björk, so it wasn’t made yesterday or in the ’80s. Did you purchase it somewhere? Donate it to Shop Vintage?”
Gus regarded Daffy. What was going on? She was visibly tense and drilling ole Emmanuel as if he were on trial.
“Daffy, do you need all the answers now? Let them come when they come.” The carpenter touched her shoulder. “Peace.” Then he finished his tea and set his cup in the sink. “Gus, why don’t we call it a day? We’ll finish next week and return the chair to its rightful place.” Emmanuel settled his wide-brimmed hat on his head. “Gus, a word?”
Excusing himself with a glance at Daffy, Gus wiped his hands on his apron and met the man outside the shop door. A light spring rain dripped over them from budding tree limbs.
“What are you going to do?” the carpenter said.
“About what? The chair? Return it good as new, or well, old, and never sit in it again.”
“And Daffy?”
“Daffy? What do I—” He looked through the shop where she inspected the chair and read from the Royal Trust folder. “She’s engaged, mate. And I’m not looking for a relationship. We’re friends, nothing more.”
“Are you?” Emmanuel tipped the collecting water from his hat. “Until Monday.”
* * *
Daffy
Sunday morning Daffy stood among the gowns and the sunlight falling through the skylights and pooling down the Grand Gallery.
The gowns moved in color from a rich burgundy to cream, to white, with the brilliant blue sheen of the Unknown Bride shimmering at the end of the line.
“Surveying your work?” Gus approached, his hair shiny and loose about his face. He wore jeans, work boots, and a thick pullover. No denying the flutter her stirred in her heart.
“They look so stunning in the light. The Princess Louisa especially. The pearls look like tiny moons.” She smiled at him before looking away, surprised by a spring of tears.
Gus had carried her home in the cart after he closed the workshop, asking if she wanted to dine at the pub. But she’d declined. Stayed in her suite and ate popcorn, watched the telly, and cried when she felt the tears. Even if breaking with Thomas was right, it still stung.
She threw kernels at the flat-screen when Leslie Ann came on announcing her Royal Special airing on The Rest of the Story Sunday night, the 30th.
Then she’d cried again and talked to the walls. Told Thomas and Blinky what she thought of them, indulged in ice cream she found in Chef Charles’s kitchen, and at last, slept.
When she woke up the next morning, her head was clear. She could admit the truth. Thomas wasn’t the one for her. She should’ve had the courage to tell him just that, not wait to discover him with Blinky. Wasn’t she a strong, independent woman?
Yet the real conundrum was facing the rest of the truth. The challenge Blinky presented to her.
“You might consider that you’re in love with the prince.”
Yes. To the blazes, yes! Out of the frying pan into the fire. Worse than being engaged to the wrong man was being in love with the impossible one.
“Is this every lass’s dream?” Gus’s question pulled Daffy from her internal wrestling. “A garden of wedding dresses?”
“Not every girl, but most. We’re going to stage a couple of the grooms’ suits. Just to create an atmosphere.”
“Was this your dream? Staging wedding gowns and overseeing the secret repair of an ancient chair? Ratting around in dusty, royal antiquities for a living?”
“I love history and antiquities, so yes. But I’m also interested in corporate curating, acquiring art and collectibles for banks, businesses. A lot of companies are doing this now to give the work environment culture. There’s also a new trend in older companies of restoring and preserving their history through documentation, film—corporate museums where old products and technology and photographs are on display. But Mum offered me a job before I graduated, so I said yes.” A tear escaped and slid down the side of her cheek. She wiped it away before Gus could see. “I’m starting to think this is my lot in life. Settling. I’m content with good-enough instead of waiting for the best. I took the first job offered. Accepted the first man who proposed.”
“We all settle, Daffy. We all make choices to keep us safe.”
“Not you. You turned your broken heart into an engagement.”
“Which didn’t work.”
“Which you turned into a year as a bartender in Florida. Gus, you take risks.”
“Is that what you call it?” His laugh twisted around her. “I call it hiding. But I’ve learned my lesson. And what’s this about the first man who proposed? Your uni boyfriend? Didn’t he miss his chance?”
She turned to him. “The first day we were in Floridana Beach, I stood on the shore thinking how ordinary I was, so average. Run of the mill. I never do anything that scares me or challenges my fears. I didn’t even try for a corporate curator position. I said yes to Mum because it was easy. Because it was wha
t she wanted. And I do have an affection for the House of Blue. Then Thomas proposed. I accepted him but I should’ve said, ‘Mate, you’ve barely told me you loved me.’”
“Daffy, what happened?”
She held up her left hand to show a bare ring finger. “He’s in love with Blinky.”
“The lass with blue eyeshadow up to her eyebrows?”
Daffy snort-laughed, batting back tears. “Opposites attract.” She walked through the dappled light toward the blue gown. “We’ll be done on Tuesday but I want to see the chair, so I’ll stay until it’s done. I’ll have to make up an excuse but—”
Gus touched her shoulder and turned her to him. “Love, are you all right?”
“I am. Embarrassed more than anything. Angry I didn’t demand more of myself, of Thomas. But at least we realized it in time.”
“He’s an idiot. I knew it when you said he gave you another woman’s ring.”
“I’ll tell him you said so.”
“Please do.” Gus hugged her close and she felt, heard, the rhythm of his heart. “Want to get out of here? Do something crazy?”
“Like what?” And yes, double yes.
“You have to say yes first.”
“How crazy?”
“Yes or no, Daffy?”
But wait. She’d only fall harder for him if she ran around the hamlet with the handsome, impetuous prince. Especially now that the barrier of being engaged was removed. Could she be such a glutton for punishment?
“I’ll get my coat.” She dashed toward the guest wing. “By the way, that’s a yes.”
He flashed his famous smile. “See you at our stairs.”
“Yes, our stairs.”
Ducking into Princess Charlotte, Daffy caught her reflection in the gilded framed living room mirror.
“You’re mad to go off with him.” The confession made her smile. “But you only live once, so why not?”
She figured they’d head toward the lake. Maybe climb the rocks. Or maybe jump in the cold mountain water, clothes and all. Now that’d be crazy.
Instead of her coat, she tugged on her thickest jumper and exchanged her flats for her trainers. Phone in her hip pocket, she made her way to the secret stairs.
They escaped by their usual route. Through the hedges, across wet and muddy grounds, and through the woods. When they hit Centre Street, Gus started toward Wells Line.
“Don’t tell me we’re going to the Belly of the Beast.” She calmed her breathing. “That’s not crazy.”
Their footsteps harmonized as they rounded the corner toward Canal Street. But there, Gus stopped.
“You know, you never seemed like a blushing bride. He was not an attentive groom.”
“I know, and maybe I’d have come to my senses before the wedding, but part of me thinks I’d have settled. We’d have had a good life, done well.”
“The trouble is—” He brushed his hand over her cheek. “You don’t know how extraordinary you are.”
She felt her Prince Gus blush claim her cheeks, her nose, her eyes.
“Ah. There’s my royal blush. I’ve not seen it in a while. You’ve gotten used to me and—”
Daffy stepped back with a sober rebuke. “Gus, don’t. Don’t flirt with me. Tease me.”
He peered toward the channel. “Do you want to go on?”
“And do something crazy?” She started down the Canal Street incline. “Stop me.”
They headed toward the quay, through the narrow lanes of small houses built by Dalholm’s first settlers.
“Are we taking the ferry to London?” While she loved the idea, it would take the day to go over and back.
“Come on, you’ll see.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her through the swirling, gusting wind to the pedestrian path, away from the slow-moving line of disembarking cars.
About halfway across the quay, revelation dawned. The Hand of God. “Oh no, Gus, I’m not going up there.” Just like that, he’d stopped her. Five minutes ago, she believed nothing could. But climb the steep path to the cleft in the rock? No. Nope. No.
“You said you were up for something crazy. Now’s your chance, Daffy. I know you can do this. Climb to the Hand of God with me.” He started forward again, his hand clamped around hers.
“It’s not safe. The wind is vicious.” Daffy hurried to match his strides. “Look at those clouds. It’s going to storm.”
Dark blue cumulonimbus clouds roiled along the morning horizon, promising a storm.
“It’s beautiful up there when it storms.”
They were almost to the rickety footbridge when she finally broke free of his hold. “Gus, I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. I know it. I see everything you want to be. Do this and you’ll know it too. You can be a corporate curator. You can wait for the man who will love you with his whole heart. Climbing to the Hand of God will teach you who you really are, Daff.”
“And if I slip on the rocks and plummet to my death?”
“At least you died doing something thrilling.”
She gaped at him before sputtering a laugh. “What if I take you with me?”
“I’ll try to hit the rocks first. Soften the blow.” Gus gazed toward the looming cliff. “When Coral left, I sailed the Mediterranean alone. It was something I’d wanted to do but had been too afraid to try. That journey started my healing process, Daffy.”
When he faced her again, he caught a twisting, curling lock of her hair with his finger. “One night I was caught in a storm, which was my worst nightmare about sailing. I was terrified. But I didn’t give in. Didn’t give up. I steered the ship through. In the morning, I was spent. But the sunrise never looked so beautiful. I’d conquered. I’d overcome. That’s when I knew I could go home again and start living.”
“And then… Robbi.”
“An ordeal that drove a new nail of doubt through me. Like you and Thomas, I knew it wasn’t right, but the fact that she broke it off—”
“And not you.” She pressed her hand to his chest. “I feel you. I do.”
Someone blasted a car horn. “Prince Gus! Hello! Over here!” A woman aimed her phone and snapped a picture.
“That’ll be on social media in sixty seconds,” he said as another car horn sounded. Then another. He took Daffy’s hand. “Let’s go.”
“Wait.” She pushed her heels into the sidewalk. “If I climb up there, what are you going to do that you can’t do now? I’m not going unless you put something on the line too.”
More car horns. A few motors stopped so people could get out for a better shot.
“Your Royal Highness…”
“Prince Gus! Over here.”
“Can I get a selfie?”
“Now I wish I had Hemstead.” He tried to move toward the footbridge, but Daffy leaned back, anchoring in.
“Come on… I want…a mutual deal. What scares you, Gus?”
“At the moment, you. Do you want to be mobbed?”
Overhead, thunder cracked.
“Tell me. Come on.” Another crack of thunder and a flash of lightning.
“We have to go.” He was too strong for her and pulled her forward. Daffy ran with the prince as a few of the spectators followed. This was madness.
As they approached the footbridge, several of the quay officers noticed them and intercepted the gathering crowd, ordering them to their motors.
“You’re holding up the schedule. All of you, get on now. Leave the prince be.”
Across the footbridge, which was as rickety as Daffy imagined, Gus cut through tall waves of grass to find the narrow path up and around the sheer North Sea wall of granite.
There was no room for error. A wall of rock to her left. A straight drop to the rocks on the right. Not even a blade of grass to grab on the way down.
“Daffy.” Gus framed her face with her hands. “Keep your eyes level and on me. Don’t look to the right or the left. Fear is the most perilous part of the journey.”
She had no reply. Only fear puls
ing in her ears.
Releasing her, he swung two fingers from his eyes to hers. “Eyes on me. Understand? If you slip, drop to your knees and lean forward.”
She nodded. Her mouth was dry. Her legs shaking. But she followed as Gus started up. With her first step, she slipped, yelped, and dropped to one knee, gripping the path with her fists.
“Eyes on me,” Gus commanded without stopping, without looking back. “You won’t fall if you look ahead.”
“That’s exactly how I’ll fall.” She stood and dragged her left hand over the sharp, damp rock face. “How will I know where to step?”
“Because you’re following me. If I fall, stop walking.”
“And be the one to tell the queen you’re dead. I’ll get sacked for sure.”
“Good, you can pursue your dreams.”
Unless the very climb itself killed her. Nevertheless, Daffy trained her gaze on Gus’s broad back.
“You won’t fall if you look ahead.”
Each step forward was an act of her will. An act of trust. But the higher they got, the easier she breathed. “If I fall, tell my parents I went down singing.”
“What song?” Gus’s words floated back on the wind. “You know they’ll ask.”
“Just listen. You’ll hear it when I’m going down, arms and legs flailing.”
“Then be sure to sing loud.”
Her laughter eased the tightness in her stomach, tossing it away over the edge. Fine. Let those emotions fall away. In fact, the higher they climbed, the more her confidence grew. The view was incredible.
“You never said what you were going to do that scared you, Gus.”
“I’ll tell you…the top.” The wind garbled his words.
“It has to be real,” she hollered back. “Not wear a pink tie with a lime-green shirt.”
“…do that…for fun.”
“You have to talk to beautiful Coral Winthrop when she arrives for the wedding.” Daffy cupped her hands around her mouth. “That’s what you have to do, mate of mine.”
As they rounded the curve in the cliff, the path narrowed. Daffy had to push against a continuous wind. The cold sank through her jumper, causing her to shiver. Even so, her legs burned and trembled from the steep grade. “Gus, I’m not sure—”
