by Rachel Hauck
He offered the smallest of nods. It’ll be all right.
“Come, both of you. Show me the King Titus.” Mum turned for the Grand Stairs and the Queen’s Library.
Daffy clasped her hand to his, lowering her voice to an insistent whisper. “What are we going to do?” Then, “Ma’am—begging your pardon, but I’ll stay here to remove the dress, as you requested.”
“Agree. Mum, I can show you the chair.” If at all possible, he wanted to leave Daffy out of the mess with the chair. At least to the queen. He motioned to her. I’ve got this.
“You can do that directly after. Daffy, you represent the Royal Trust, do you not? Now where is the King Titus?”
* * *
Daffy
A job sorting rubbish at a recycling center wouldn’t be so bad, would it? After all, she appreciated old things. Although old, used, gross things would present a challenge.
Still, a job was a job.
To her surprise and relief, the queen asked no questions as Gus led her down to the garage and helped her into the cart’s passenger seat.
“This ought to be interesting,” she said as the prince steered out of the garage.
Jostling along in the folding rear seat of the cart, she plotted how she could “bounce off” at the next rut—Gus, hit them all—and pretend to be hurt while urging them, “Leave me to die. Go on without me.”
But the path to the workshop became smooth as the old white clapboard structure came into view.
When he pulled up to the workshop’s open door, Daffy leaned to see if the carpenter was inside. If there was a God, Emmanuel would appear to help smooth the waters. And bonus, explain about the blue dress. Finally, a silver lining on this thunderous day of wild emotions.
The queen stepped out with a pressed, firm expression, her blue eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“Gus, once again, explain to me why we’ve taken a joyride in this dreary, cold, wet rain?”
“Mum, funny story,” he said, taking the queen’s hand as she maneuvered around a small puddle.
Daffy stepped up behind him and raised to whisper in his ear. “If I get sacked, you better get me a job with your friend in Florida. At that pub on the beach.”
“You won’t get sacked.” He spoke low, out of the side of his mouth. “Besides, what happened to corporate curating?”
“This. Right here. What’s about to go down will end my career.”
“What are you two going on about?” The queen ducked into the workshop, her shoulders shivering, shaking raindrops from her coat.
Gus joined her with a backward glance at the door’s dangling lock. Daffy trailed in with slow steps.
“I’m not sure how to begin.” He seemed to search his memory. “You see, Daffy was in the library and—”
“Don’t start with me.” Sorry, but she’d not be the anchor to this tale of disaster. By her expression, the queen was already blaming her. But this time she was not a gullible, assuming ten-year-old. “I was merely checking to see where Cranston had placed the chair.”
“Right.” Gus wagged his finger at her. “Daffy was doing her job but I, however, was just back from the pub. Drunk.”
“Go on.” The queen’s gaze fired a thousand cannons. Daffy moved next to Gus and patted his back. Might as well face the firing squad together. After all, they were in love.
“I might have had a few pints. Ernst was very chatty that night—”
“Ernst?” The queen huffed. “The expert on the Dalholm shorthand speech chatty? He could’ve told you his life story in ten minutes.”
“I had more pints than I realized. Anyway, as I headed to my apartment, I saw the light on in the library. I went in. Long story short, I sat in the chair—”
The queen gasped. “You broke the Titus?” Sharp cookie, the queen, seeing the picture before it was completed. But then again, this was a paint-by-numbers sort of tale.
“It was an accident. I heard a crack, so I moved the chair about, thinking I could locate the weakness.”
“Where you were, Daffy? You’re the Royal Trust person on-site.”
“Mum, she was yelling at me to get out of the chair. But I was too inebriated to listen. I scooted the chair forward—”
“Stop.” The queen raised her hand as if about to issue a royal proclamation. “I’ve heard enough. The chair broke. How bad was the damage? Where is it now? Why are we here? Honestly, Gus, you are such a child at times.”
Hey, now wait a minute. Daffy stepped in front of the firing squad. “We found a skilled craftsman, Your Majesty.”
“Yes. Emmanuel.” Gus crossed around the bench to turn on the overhead lamp. “He helped me fix the chair.”
“You…met Emmanuel? In person?”
“Ernst found him for us.” Gus glanced at Daffy then his mother. “Why? Did he help you fix the chair too?” He smiled and laughed, but only a little. “Did you break it? Like mother, like son.”
“No, I did not break it. I’m not stupid.” She peered at Daffy. “You say Adelaide gave you the dress by Emmanuel’s command?”
“I don’t know about command but yes, she said he wanted me to have it. I’m not sure why a carpenter would—”
“Where is the chair?” Queen Catherine raised her chin, her jaw taut.
“Here.” Gus moved to the corner where the chair had been carefully preserved in cotton and covered with a canvas. But the ancient artifact was not there. He dropped down, searching, scouring the small space, flinging the coverings over his head as if the chair might magically appear. But all his searching produced was a cloud of dust and a dew of perspiration.
“Gus, where is my chair?” The queen was not messing around.
“It was here, I promise you. Two days ago. I pieced together the seat and legs.” He knocked over boxes, peering into cupboards much too small to hold the King Titus.
Daffy focused on breathing, feeling as if she was alone on the cliff’s pathway and one wrong step away from plummeting to the rocks. Falling, falling, falling.
“Are you telling me someone stole the world’s most known and valued chair?”
“No, impossible. Emmanuel, Daffy, and I were the only ones who knew the chair was out here. And he’d never take it.”
The queen shot a glance at Daffy. “And you? Did you take it?”
“Mum,” Gus said. “Of course not. She was the one helping me fix it. She hounded me about even sitting in it.”
“Then where is it?”
Seconds ticked off as Daffy searched for her voice. “Ma’am, we’ll find it. His Royal Highness is right. Emmanuel is very kind. Very knowledgeable. In fact, he talked as if he knew the first King Titus personally.”
“I know all about Emmanuel. What I don’t know is the location of my chair.” The queen approached Daffy, wielding her finger like a sword. “You are dismissed. Gather your things and go.”
“What? Mum, that’s not fair.” Gus stepped ahead of his mother. “Daffy had nothing to do with this.”
“Precisely. Had she done her job, one of the world’s most valuable historical pieces would not be lost.”
“I took command of the chair once I broke it. She wanted to report it but I talked her into waiting.”
“So she purposefully did not do her job? She is dismissed.”
“Mum, I will find the chair.”
“Yes, you will, Augustus. But Miss Caron is still dismissed. I’m sorry, Daffodil, but you have let me, the Family, and your country down.”
“Oh, ma’am, I am so, so sorry.” She held onto the workbench and tried not to weep.
“Mum, please, that’s rather harsh. This is my doing, not hers. Sack me if you’ve a mind to sack someone.”
“I would if I could. You’ve let me and your country down as well. You should’ve known better.”
The queen exited the workshop, head high, spine stiff, without another word. Gus trailed along behind Daffy and tried to fasten the lock—not that there was anything valuable to protect—but
the steel piece just dangled there.
“What’s wrong with the lock?”
“I’m not sure,” Gus said, low, over her shoulder. “But she’ll calm down. I’ll take care of this.”
“I doubt she will. And she’s right. I should be sacked.” Daffy fought the rise of shame.
“This isn’t how I envisioned our first evening as a couple in love,” he said.
“How can you still love me? The queen will never accept me as your girlfriend now, let alone anything more.”
“But I do. I love you. This doesn’t change anything.”
“What are you two going on about? Shall we get on? It’s wet and cold. Gus, you’ve a chair to find and Daffy, you’ve luggage to pack.”
Love was a magical wonderful thing that healed a lot of wounds. But in this moment, love was a fantasy.
Riding in the jump seat, Daffy gazed toward the cliff and the Hand of God. She could just barely see the tip of His “fingers.”
Their true love confession seemed long ago and faraway, even silly and frivolous. Their magical afternoon ended in disaster. How could she climb out of this one? More royal security statutes? She’d never be allowed near the palace again.
A stony royal silence serenaded the ride back to Hadsby. She’d never be a part of this family. The Family. It was one thing to face the public, with their criticism and scrutiny, but it was another entirely to break a family—royal or not—apart. She’d not do it. And because she loved him, she’d not allow Gus to do it either.
* * *
Gus
“Ernst.” Gus burst into the Belly of the Beast. “Have you seen Emmanuel?”
After a pretty good row, Gus had given in and agreed to drive Daffy to the train station to catch the six o’clock to Port Fressa. She’d packed in mere minutes and almost ran from the castle.
“How can this be?” He’d stood in the doorway to her bedroom as she’d packed. “We confess our love to one another, and three hours later you’re leaving on the heels of this stupid argument.”
“We attempted to deceive the queen. We should’ve been honest about the chair.”
“This is my fault. I thought I was protecting you.”
“And yourself.” She dumped clothes from a drawer into her suitcase. Didn’t bother to fold them.
“I’ll make it right, Daffy. I won’t stop until I do.”
Their goodbye at the train station was nothing for the movies, or even a short novel, but he was able to hold her for a few brief moments. Tangle his fingers in her hair. Kiss her soft lips.
“I do love you.”
But she’d not returned his sentiment, and the feelings of old stirred deep in his belly and whispered, “Here we go again.”
“Yer Royalness,” Ernst called. “Come. Oh, problem?”
“Emmanuel.” Gus landed at the bar where Ernst dried a tray of mugs. “Immediately.”
“Not seen.” He pushed Gus down on a stool and filled one of the glasses.
“Tell me where he goes. Even better, where he lives. I’ll find him.”
“Can’t.”
“What do you mean, ‘Can’t?’ How’d you find him the first time?”
“Word out.”
“Please, my mate, word out. Again. It’s urgent. Very, very urgent.”
“Give twenty-four. Forty-eight.”
Two days? Gus dropped his forehead to the old, scarred planks of the bar. “I don’t have twenty-four hours, minutes—not even seconds.” His very heartbeat seemed to count the time he raced against. He raised up, his hand around the pint glass, too weak to lift it, too full of angst to drink it. “Ernst, find him. There’s a Queen’s Medal in it for you. I’ll see to it myself.”
Ernst propped his wide girth on the bar. “And princess?”
“Princess? What are you talking about?”
“Daffy. Pretty. Hair.” Ernst waved his broad hand about his head.
“Why do you call her a princess?”
“Because you love her.”
“You know?”
“Ernst see.”
Gus swilled his pint. “I do love her, but the queen is angry. We… I lost the King Titus chair and now Daffy is sacked and on her way to Port Fressa. I think she’s changed her mind about me.” Of course she had. This was his lot in life. The Love ’Em and Lose ’Em Prince.
His phone buzzed from his pocket. Let it be Daffy from the train telling him she was all right. That she believed in their love.
But it was an incoming message from Helene. A picture of Adler holding her lime-green Frisbee.
I miss u. Come play wiff me.
Miss you too, Adler. Tell your mom to teach you to spell.
Helene answered with a simple, Ha!
Another text came in. This one from Hemstead.
I don’t know where you’ve gone but I don’t care. I resign.
Great. Perfect ending to a rotten day. With a solo sip of his pint, so as not to offend Ernst, he reminded the proprietor to “word out” for Emmanuel and headed back to Hadsby.
He gathered the staff and interrogated them, beginning with Cranston, who assured him the chair was in Gus’s apartment.
“I don’t even have a key, sir.”
Stern was clueless. And not surprised when Gus announced Hemstead had resigned.
“If you don’t mind me saying, it’s time to remember who and where you are, sir,” Stern said when they returned to his apartment.
“You sound like Daffy.” This should’ve been a night of dining with the woman he loved, not fighting with the world and fearing for his heart.
After shoving down a cold meat pie he’d carried to his quarters from the kitchen, Gus ambled to his parents’ apartment and knocked.
Dad let him in with a grumble. “She’s on the phone. Still quite angry.”
“Do the words, ‘It was an accident,’ mean nothing?”
Dad held up his hands. “Save your case for her. You know she has to process. But she’s extremely disappointed in you and Daffy.”
“Daffy is innocent. I did all the breaking and deceiving.” Gus sat in the nearest chair and slumped forward. “Ernst is the only man I know who can find the carpenter. He’s on the task.”
“Is the carpenter Emmanuel?” Dad’s attention flicked back and forth between Gus and the telly before he pointed the remote at the screen. “Your mum knew him when she was young. What’s this?” Dad leaned forward. “Leslie Ann Parker is doing a story on your mum? Next Sunday night. On LVT-1.”
His father’s attempt to mimic the announcer’s voice almost made Gus laugh. Almost. Reporters never got the story right. They exaggerated, found untrue details from clandestine “inside sources” and spoke them as gospel truth.
“I’d think Ms. Parker would want to report on John and Holland. The ones getting married.”
“Who knows with Ms. Parker.”
Gus caught the last of the commercial. “…join me, Leslie Ann Parker, on The Rest of the Story as I take an in-depth look at our queen with never before seen photos and a story that just might change history.”
Change history? The woman was reaching. “What aspect of Mum’s life could possibly be hidden? Or change history. Other than her private life within palace walls, every major and minor move is documented. They’d have had a crew in your wedding night suite, if the law still required.”
“Good heavens.” Dad switched to the game show he and Mum watched Sunday nights.
Gus eased to his feet but stopped at the sight of the blue gown Mum demanded Daffy discard, even burn, draped over a wingback chair.
“Dad, what’s this doing here? Mum told Daffy burn it.”
“Burn it?” Dad didn’t look away from the telly screen. “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask her.”
“You should’ve seen her. She went mad when she saw it on the Unknown Bride mannequin. Gave Daffy quite the ripping.”
“Doesn’t sound like her.”
Gus stood as Mum entered the room. “Glasgow Town
s and Morwena Caron have been made aware.”
“Who’s Glasgow?” Gus said.
“A member of the Royal Trust in charge of textile restoration, including furniture pieces. He and Morwena will quietly inquire about the chair.” Mum sat next to Dad but fidgeted, curling her legs over the cushion, then sitting up straight, feet planted. “I assume the thief will issue a ransom note. Make his demands. The whole world will know our failure.”
“If we must tell the world, Mum, I’ll do it.”
She gripped the end of the couch arm, her fingers white. “I keep it in storage for twenty-five years, and when I bring it out, my own son turns it into a trampoline.”
“I sat in it. I didn’t jump.”
“Why didn’t you listen to Daffy?”
“I was drunk. And then I was a bullheaded man who said, ‘I can fix it. Hush, let me listen.’” With a sigh, Gus knelt next to his mother, his queen. “I am truly sorry. I will find the chair.”
“How? How will any of us find it? It’s lost. Taken.”
“You said yourself that we should expect a ransom note.”
“Or the chair will be sold on the private market and we’ll never see it again. Forever lost.” Mum stood to pace, her bare feet leaving imprints in the plush carpet. “A thousand years of rulers, and the Titus lost on my watch.”
“We’ll be infamous together, Mum. You for losing the chair. Me for being the only prince in recorded history to be left at the altar.” He glanced over at the dress. “Do you want me to take that to the incinerator?”
“No.” Her sharp words caused Dad to look away from the telly. “I’ll… I’ll find something to do with it.”
“I can take it back to the vintage shop. Daffy said it was down by the quay.”
“I said I’ll deal with it. Edric, do you mind watching alone? I have a headache.”
Dad muted the telly and reached for Mum. “Love, it’s going to be okay. Historical things get lost, damaged, burned up in fires, given away, traded, and stolen. We could have a regular Robin Hood in these woods, taking the chair to sell and give the money to the poor. But whatever the case, life and the world will go on.”
