by Rachel Hauck
“The Trust will pay, but you might make a large donation. Ease your guilt.” Mum refilled her teacup, smiling as Dad entered, dressed for a day of hiking.
“We looked for you at breakfast,” Dad said to Gus, declining Mum’s silent offer of tea. “Chef Charles made his famous eggs Benedict. Darling, are you sure we can’t get him down to Perrigwynn?”
“I was in Port Fressa. With Daffy.” Gus glanced at his watch. He needed to shower. “I must run. Meeting with the planners.”
“You drove to Port Fressa last night?” The cordiality evaporated from Mum’s voice.
“I couldn’t leave things unsettled. She was sacked on my account.” He made his way to the door. “You may have thought I was having you on last night, but I am in love with her. She with me. We’ll be attending the ball together.”
Mum’s cup rattled against her saucer. “You’ve only known her a few weeks.”
“I’ve known her my whole life.”
“As children. Gus, this is rash and foolish. Have you not learned your lesson?”
“Dad, a little help here. Back me up.”
“Gus, are you sure? This isn’t another rebound, is it?”
“A two-year rebound from Coral and one from Robbi. No, it’s not a rebound. I wasn’t planning on this at all. In fact I was dead set against it. But, Mum, Daffy is real and honest. She tells me like it is and I can tell her anything. Mum, you were the one who told me not to give up on love. Well, here I am, giving it another chance.”
“Then, congratulations.” Dad popped him on the back and leaned in for a shoulder hug. “I look forward to meeting her again. As my son’s future bride, perhaps.”
Gus’s phone chimed with a fifteen-minute reminder. “That’s it, I have to go.” But he hesitated. “Mum, I know about Daffy trying on that blue dress. How angry you were at her. How you changed security protocols afterward.”
“What?” Dad said. “Surely not. That’s the reason you changed them when the boys were young?”
“She was a nosy ten-year-old. Had no business running around the palace. I stand by those changes. What else did she say?”
“Why don’t I remember this?” Dad decided on a cup of tea and moved to the trolley. “This will warm me up before my hike.”
“That was it, Mum” Gus said. “What else should she say? I guess this was the big secret she hinted at in Florida but really, what was the big deal? She snuck into your room and tried on a gown.”
“Do you expect an answer?”
“I expect if you have anything to say about her, say it now. Otherwise accept her like you did Coral, Robbi, and Holland. I’m inviting her for this weekend, by the way, and she’ll stay in Royal Guest One.”
* * *
Daffy
The week flew by. Daffy uploaded her résumé to various museums and galleries. To her delight, she found two Port Fressa companies looking for a corporate curator. One for art, the other to “curate” a training database, but she thought she’d give it a go.
Gus called and announced the chair had been found and that his mum was no longer angry. Hemstead was both culprit and savior, depending on how one looked at the situation.
Her phoned chimed with Gus’s texts throughout the day and calls at night. He shared wedding ball details while she updated him on her life. Sleeping in, job hunting, and meeting friends she’d not seen in ages for lunch. Also, of her goal was to have a job by June, if not sooner.
He surprised her Thursday with a mid-afternoon visit, carrying in a load of groceries to cook his other infamous specialty. Spaghetti with a homemade meat sauce.
They talked until the wee hours again, falling asleep on the couch. She woke at three in the morning curled in his strong embrace and listened to his breathing, resisting the urge to wake him and ask, “Is this real? What’s happening between us?”
He left Friday just before her first phone interview. It went well, or so it seemed.
Gus wanted her at Hadsby for the weekend, but she’d volunteered to work the kids’ art show at the Metropolitan Art Gallery.
Sunday she would train up to Dalholm for the week of festivities. And the beginning of a new, real life chapter of My Life with the Prince.
So far only her parents and Ella knew the truth about her romance with the prince. They’d agreed to keep it that way until after the ball.
Leslie Ann texted and called, wanting to know what was going on with the prince, but Daffy managed to evaded her.
In the meantime, Mum fussed about the impact on her life when Daffy met her earlier in the week for tea.
“My phone is ringing off the proverbial hook. Aunt Blithe, my mum, my sisters, your dad’s family, the girls in my book club, the RT staff, all wanting to know what’s going on, and why I didn’t tell any of them. I’ve never said ‘I don’t know’ so much in my life.” Then she sighed. “But I always knew you two had a connection.”
Yet when Mum stopped by the flat Friday night, she was somber.
“You look worse for the wear. Can I get you some tea?” Daffy said.
“No thanks, love. Your dad and I just ate.” Mum slipped from her coat and lowered into the rummage sale chair with a sigh. “I love this piece.”
“Then it’s yours when Gus and I get married… I mean, if we get married.”
Mum’s smile was brief. “You’re not at the pub with your mates?”
“Steering clear for a while. In case Thomas and Blinky are there.” Daffy sat on the edge of the coffee table, facing Mum.
“I can’t get over how quickly everything changed for you. Last week you were engaged to Thomas, this week you’re in love with Gus.” Mum squeezed her hand. “Your eyes say it all. You do love him. I’ll say it now, you never glowed with Thomas. I told your dad perhaps you weren’t a glower, but you are. I see it.”
“I’ve blushed over him for years.” Daffy touched her cheeks.
“I told you! No one believes their mother. You’ll learn, when you have kids, how smart I was.” Mum sighed, glanced about, admiring Daffy’s flat, making small talk.
“Mum, say it.” Daffy squeezed her hands. “Whatever’s on your mind?”
“Oh Daffy, I’m not sure I should. I’ve gone round and round in my head since we met for tea. You know I’m thrilled for you, but I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Why would I get hurt? He loves me. I love him.” Daffy moved to the couch and curled up with the pillow Gus had used, leaving behind his familiar scent.
“You know why, Daff. Don’t lose sight of reason in the clouds of romance. The queen is not going to let you waltz in to her family with a secret the size of the one you’re harboring. It’s too risky. Too easy to let slip. Gus will be your husband. How can you not tell him?”
“I’m not even sure I have a secret, Mum. Eighteen years is a long time. Memories are tricky.”
“Not this one, Daffy. You’re talking yourself out of it because you love Gus. But one day, out of nowhere, the words will come out of your mouth. When you think it’s safe, or you’ll think he already knew. Ten years, twenty years from now.”
“I won’t care then, will I?” She tossed the pillow aside and went to the window. “I’m not sure I remember what I heard that day.”
Beyond the window, the city scene was so pretty, spreading like a white and amber fan that glowed through the darkness. The spiral of Clouver Abbey, which survived a German bombing raid, spiked toward the heavens, held the bells that chimed every hour.
“I remember as if it were yesterday. But since you told me about Gus, I’ve done some digging in my memories and I wanted to check what you wrote in your diary. On those torn out pages you tucked into the cover’s little pocket.”
“I’d love to reread those pages but, Mum, the diary was tossed in the great purge of ’09.” When Daffy told Mum what she’d heard, Mum urged her to write it down, get it off her mind and heart, then forget it. Looking back now, Mum must have suspected the story carried some element of truth.
/> “If you ever need to talk about it, come to me. No one else.”
“It’s in the box I dropped off.” Mum rose up, glancing about. “Where is it? Didn’t you read my note?”
“I did and there was no diary.”
“Yes, there was.” Mum headed toward Daffy’s room. “Is it in here?”
“Mum, I took everything out and it wasn’t there.” Daffy retrieved the box from the closet and dumped the contents on her bed. Picture frames, ribbons, mementos and a pair of gent’s socks.
“What am I missing?” Daffy shoved the contents around, finding nothing that resembled a brown leather book with lined pages.
“You didn’t find it?” Mum anchored her hands on her hips, furrowed her brow, and twisted her lips. “I am positive—wait, maybe it was in one of your dad’s boxes. Or, well…” She made another face. “One of Ella’s boxes.”
“Ella.” Revelation slowly dawned. “She was here while I was away.” Daffy pulled her phone from her pocket and tapped out a text.
Did you take anything from the box Mum brought over?
“Why would she take your diary?” Mum said.
“We talked about it in Florida. Leslie Ann wanted to read it.”
“Ella wouldn’t take it without asking, would she?”
“What do you think?”
“Oh mercy.” Mum exhaled and sat on the edge of the bed.
Daffy paced back into the lounge, around the dining table, and back, waiting for a reply. Mum met her in the middle of the room.
“Do you know if Ella’s at Pub Clemency?” Daffy said.
“Not sure.” Mum didn’t pace, but stayed in one place, hands clasped together, her fingertips white.
Finally, a reply pinged in.
Yeah, why? Gave it to LA.
What? Daffy looked at her mother, a sick sensation rising. “She gave it to Leslie Ann.”
Mum dropped again, this time down to the rummage chair.
You said she could have it if you ever found it.
I never.
You did. On the beach. What’s the big deal?
The words on her phone screen blurred as the floor beneath her feet began to tilt.
“Mum… Ella gave the diary to…to Leslie Ann.”
“I heard you the first time. Please tell me that somehow the queen’s secret was not in the back of the book.”
“Of course it was. You told me to write. Then I tore out the pages, I can’t remember why, and tucked them away. My heart is pounding.” Daffy moved toward the kitchen, tugging at the material around her neck. The air was thin. She couldn’t fill her lungs. The recessed kitchen lights seemed to blink and wink, fading and brightening, making her world spin. “What are we going to do?”
“Call Leslie Ann. Ask her.”
“But what if she didn’t read the diary yet? She has better things to do than read my pre-teen musings. If I ask her, she’ll read it for sure. But wait, she’s not said anything to me. So maybe she’s not read it. What if I just ask for it back?”
“Do you have a key to her place?” Mum was on her feet, inflated with hope.
“Blast it, no.” Clutching the edge of the counter, Daffy rode a wave of spiking adrenaline. “We could just go over there?’
Then a scene flashed. The commercial where Leslie Ann stood in a green meadow. One that looked like pictures Daffy had seen of America.
“The commercial.” Now panic rode up and staked a claim. “Where she’s in a sunny, green setting. Couldn’t be Lauchtenland—we’re still fighting winter. And wasn’t she off the show on a special assignment last week? Mum, what if Leslie Ann went to America? To where he lived. Was it Tennessee?”
Yeah, she remembered everything she heard that afternoon.
“Surely not. That’s a long way to go for a bio-documentary on the queen. And the show airs this weekend. She’d have been working on this story for months.”
“Not if the story is now about the queen’s love child. Her secret baby. Who was raised in America by her father.”
“I… I need to sit down again.” Mum stumbled back to the chair.
“I should’ve burned those pages. Why…why did I keep them?”
“You were a girl. I’m the one who should’ve gotten rid of them.”
“Mum, this will destroy the queen. This will destroy everything.”
* * *
Daffy charged through Pub Clemency, bumping into patrons standing in the aisle, around crowded tables. A quick call to Ella informed her the mates had all gathered.
“Excuse you, lass.”
“Excuse you too.” She was in no mood. No mood.
There they were. At the table in the corner under the window. Her weekly Friday night friends. People she loved and counted on. Marlow and Tonya. Frank and Kayle. Rick, Albert, Jones. Ella and Leslie Ann. Only Thomas and Blinky were absent.
“Daffy! You’re here.” Tonya waved her over. “Scoot over, Jones, let her in by you. Ella said you weren’t coming.”
“I’m not staying, darling, but thanks.” Daffy leaned over the round table, her gaze fixed on Leslie Ann. “Did you read it?”
“What?”
“Answer me and don’t lie. Did you read it?”
“Daffy,” Ella interrupted “You told me—”
She flashed her palm. “I’ll deal with you later. Les, did you read it? All of it?”
“Every word. Even those juicy pages tucked away in the pocket.” The smirk from Florida hovered on her lips. “Brilliant. You were brilliant. I give you credit by the way. In the documentary.”
“Credit?”
“You were my credible source. My journey to the truth began with you and your diary.”
The sounds of the pub faded under Daffy’s steam of anger. “Why? Why would you do such a thing? Is your idea of success tearing others down? Destroying lives? Look at you. You have everything. Beauty, brains, fame—and it’s not enough. You have to be the best, or rather, your twisted version of the best. Best story, scoop of the decade, the century, the millennium. Ah, you make me sick. Truly.”
“Hey, you two, what’s going on?” Albert stood and invoked his shrink voice, which made no impact.
Leslie Ann reached for an appetizer. “It’s my job, Daffy. I’d do it again.”
“Do you hear yourself? Since when did it become your job to ruin people? Shame them? To stick your blooming nose where it doesn’t belong? The diary was my private business. At the very least you could’ve talked to me. Even better, the queen.”
“You said I could read your diary. How was I to know you’d penned a slam-bam ending?”
“It wasn’t the ending. It was a secret. Nothing to do with my stupid story. Does your producer know what you’re about to do?”
“Yes, and we’re ready. By the way, what is going on between you and the prince.”
Ignore her. “Did you go to Tennessee?”
“Watch the piece. I need the ratings. It’s my first time on The Rest of the Story. Relax, you weren’t the only one who helped me. Remember Sinclair Posey? Royal reporter in the ’80s and ’90s. He gave me lots of leads and information. But oh he was so jealous I get to break this one.”
“You and I, Leslie Ann, are through. Done. Delete my name from your contacts. We’re no longer friends.”
“Daffy, no. Come on.” Kayle was always the peacemaker. “Leslie Ann, is this story worth your friendship?”
“Ask Miss Arrogant here. I’m good. She’s the one drawing a line.”
Their eyes met. Steel clashing with steel. Trembling, vision blurring, Daffy stalked away from the table then swung back around.
“In the process of building your big career of tearing down people’s lives, you’re ruining mine. Gus and I are in love but there will be no hope of a future now. Thanks. Thanks very much.”
“You’re what?” Leslie Ann shoved way from the table.
“You heard me. Want a scoop, LA? Here you go. Prince Augustus was in love with a royal curator, Daffodil Caro
n, until her stupid diary landed in the hand of her stupid friend and ruined the queen’s life. Now he no longer speaks to her.”
She left the table of gaping mouths and burst from the pub in a shudder of tears. Mum stood outside under the street lamp and Daffy fell into her arms.
“You know what you have to do now, love?” Mum stroked her hair.
Daffy wept and nodded.
“Want me to come with you?”
“No, I’ll do it. No use dragging you down with me.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Gus
“Hello, gorgeous.” He gathered Daffy in his arms when she reached the top of the Grand Staircase and kissed her. “I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow. How’d you get out of your volunteer gig? Not that I mind.”
“Mum took my place.” Daffy’s voice was low, if not cold. When he bent to see her face, she glanced away. “I drove up in Dad’s little blue car.”
“You all right, love?”
“Tired.”
“Where are your things?” He glanced behind her, expecting to see a footman in tow.
“Um, I didn’t bring anything.”
“Why not? You’re staying the week, aren’t you?” He stepped away with a sense of déjà vu. Her tone and posture mimicked Coral’s and Robbi’s. The old struggle renewed. But no, this was a new day. A new season. “Tell me straight up. Have you changed your mind? Returned to Thomas?”
“No, never. I’ve not changed my mind.”
“You love me?”
She nodded.
“And this makes you unhappy?”
“Gus.” Daffy raised her head with a deep inhale. “I need to speak to the queen.”
“Now? I think she’s gone hiking with Dad.”
“As soon as possible.”
Gus settled her in her the guest suite, though since she didn’t have luggage, it was only a matter of showing her around and giving her the lock’s passcode.
She offered monosyllabic answers to his questions and stared away from him more than at him. He suggested a walk over the grounds, but she didn’t bring the right shoes. She raised her foot and pointed to her thin-soled trainers.
