Royal Court

by Jenny Frame

  Quincy’s heart began to thud, and she flinched as she heard the explosions, the shouts and screams.

  She tried to take deep breaths, as she had taught herself, to try and regain control. If she was truthful with herself, it wasn’t that she didn’t feel, but that she couldn’t allow herself to feel. If she did allow herself for one second, she would be lost.

  “TV off.”

  The noises started to quieten, but she looked down at her hands and saw a tremor there. She stood quickly and went back to her bags.

  Her phone rang and she said to the computer, “Answer call.”

  “Quincy?”

  It was the admiral. She stood straighter and more stiffly. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Are you packed and ready to go?”

  Quincy looked over at the bags on her bed. It wasn’t much to have accrued from a life in the marines.

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m reporting to the close protection unit at Royal Military Police headquarters for training this afternoon,” Quincy said.

  “Good. How long will you be there?”

  “Six months, ma’am. Queen Beatrice’s protection officer is leaving for a new post then.”

  There was a short silence, then Admiral Quincy said, “I want you to listen to me carefully, Quincy. You have been given a lifeline after you besmirched your previously unblemished record. Do not let emotion rule you again—that is, if you wish to live up to the family name.”

  Despite having rescued a young woman, her attack on Lieutenant Rodwell had been excessive, to say the least. She should have been court-martialled and possibly discharged from the marines, but because she’d stopped a sexual assault and had recently won a medal for gallantry, and because of who her mother was, the command hierarchy were reluctant to discipline her out of the service.

  But Quincy’s operational effectiveness was questioned, despite managing to pass a psychological assessment. The solution came when, at George’s request, her commanding officer asked if she would consider retraining as a close protection officer for Queen Beatrice.

  Quincy’s court martial was quietly shelved, and a new life awaited her, while Rodwell was given a prison sentence for his attack on the young woman and discharged from the marines.

  “Yes, ma’am. I will never let this happen again.” Quincy’s walls were up and she wasn’t letting anything through again.

  “It’s such a great honour to serve Her Majesty. Make me proud, Captain.”

  Quincy walked over to her uniform bag and zipped it up. “I will, Admiral.”

  Chapter One

  Six months later

  “If only I was Bea’s size…” Holly Weaver picked up a box of shoes from the rows and rows in Queen Beatrice’s walk-in wardrobe. If you loved fashion, then Bea’s dressing room in Windsor Castle was like a designer shop that held all the major fashion brands. Bea was always happy to share clothes and jewellery with her friends, but Holly wished more than anything they shared a shoe size—she’d be in shoe heaven in this dressing room.

  After a successful career as a hair and make-up person in the TV and movie industry, Holly had been delighted to be asked by Bea to join her staff as her Royal Dresser. In her new role, she got to travel the world with Queen Georgina and Queen Beatrice, shop for the most beautiful designer clothes, and take care of her close friend personally. Another member of their close circle of friends, Lali Ramesh, was Bea’s private secretary and travelled everywhere with her. Greta, the final member, was a wife and full-time mum to her three kids, but Bea always made the effort to include her in as many of their social occasions as possible—like tonight.

  Holly heard a car door and walked over to the window holding the shoes in her hand. She saw Greta and her partner Riley getting out of their car. Their group of friends had been close since university but had become even tighter since Bea married Queen Georgina.

  When Bea’s life changed overnight, the group pulled together to help and made sure she was supported, and her privacy protected, which made nights like tonight important. George and Bea were hosting a Friday night dinner and drinks evening. It kept Bea’s friendships strong as they spent so much time travelling all over the world.

  Since Bea had given birth to the new heir to the throne, Princess Edwina, the world had gone royal baby crazy. Bea’s mum and dad now lived in a beautiful cottage on the Windsor estate, which meant Bea could see her parents whenever she wanted, and her mother could help her with the new princess. Between her friends and her parents, Bea had a bubble of support around her, a royal court, to make things just a bit easier. And Holly was proud to be part of that bubble.

  Holly sighed. She wouldn’t be going to tonight’s get together. Of course she was invited, and not that she had anywhere else to go, but she was sick of feeling awkward as the only single one in the group.

  She walked over to the dress hanging on the clothes rail and placed the shoes below. Not that any of her friends ever made her feel uncomfortable, in fact they badgered her to join them all the time, and she had, but sometimes it was just too much. She was the last single one. Bea had George, and Lali had been chased and finally caught by Captain Cameron, Queen Georgina’s personal dresser and close protection officer.

  Lali had been dating Cammy for a while, but at Christmas, Cammy proposed. Lali said yes and they were planning a late summer wedding. It was strange—Holly never felt any need or want to have a partner when Greta or Bea got married, but since Lali had gotten engaged, she had sensed something was missing in her life, and felt loneliness for the first time. Even when she was in a club full of people, she was alone.

  Holly shook off her melancholy thoughts. All of Bea’s clothes were laid out for church on Sunday, and it was time to get out of here.

  Holly locked the door to the dressing room and hurried along the corridors of the ancient castle. She skipped downstairs and approached the drawing room. She’d promised she’d have a drink with her friends before she went.

  Sam, one of the footmen on the door, smiled warmly at her.

  “Evening Sam, how are you?”

  Sam blushed, as he often did around her. He was sweet and had a little bit of a crush on her, she was sure.

  “Great, thanks, Ms. Holly.” He opened the door wide and she found her friends enjoying a pre-dinner drink.

  “Here she is,” Lali said.

  George took a glass of champagne from one of the footmen holding a tray of drinks and brought it over to her. Holly curtseyed, then took the drink and George’s offered arm as she escorted her over to the rest of the group.

  “Are you sure you can’t stay for dinner, Holls?” Bea said.

  “Sorry, I already promised to meet someone at that new club I told you about.” Holly felt terrible lying.

  Greta moved a few paces to her and said, “Just be careful and get a taxi home. I always worry about you. There’s lots of bad people out there.”

  “Listen to Mother,” Lali joked.

  Holly smiled. They each had their role in their group of friends. Greta was the mother of the group, Lali the organizer, Bea the single-minded, determined one, the glue that kept the group together, despite their very different lives and personalities, and lastly herself, the fun one. Holly, the life and soul of the party, who kept them young and stopped them taking themselves too seriously.

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.” Holly sipped her drink.

  Greta put her hand on Holly’s shoulder. “If you’re ever stuck, just call me and I’ll send Riley to get you.”

  Riley pulled Greta to her and smiled. “Anytime, Holls.”

  It was always nice to see how much in love and passionate Greta and Riley still were. Greta had met Riley at university, and all these years later, they still adored each other.

  As she looked around the room, Holly felt a twinge of jealousy that she didn’t have someone to look at her the way her friends and their partners looked at each other. She gazed over at George and Bea, and just seeing them together, t
heir connection, the way George looked at Bea, was unquestionable devotion. It was only Holly who hadn’t been that lucky, not that she hadn’t searched. She had searched a lot, but no one made her feel what her friends had.

  Holly could only remember one experience approaching what she saw in her friends’ smiles, and it was something that was constantly in her thoughts these days, after years of trying to forget it.

  Bea and Lali came over to join Holly and Greta, leaving George, Cammy, and Riley talking amongst themselves.

  “So, Holls,” Bea said. “Who’s the man of the moment?”

  Holly looked down at her glass. “There isn’t one.”

  “There hasn’t been anyone for months,” Greta said. “You’re the last single one. You have to let us live vicariously through your exciting life.”

  “I don’t have time for dating now,” Holly said.

  Lali stage-whispered, “Maybe her crush on Story St. John has ruined her for all the nice guys out there.”

  Holly rolled her eyes. “Stop with the crush thing.”

  Greta joined in, suggesting, “Or maybe dashing polo players fill her head and make her heart pitter-patter.”

  Holly had a little-, well, maybe a big-girl crush on action hero film star Story St. John, and her films were usually a part of the girls’ night they held every month. Her crush wasn’t a shock to her, as she had always been attracted to women, as well as men, but her friends didn’t know that about her. It was something that she didn’t want to talk about or think about again. But for the past year, her attraction to women was so hard not to think about. She couldn’t help thinking that maybe it was a woman she was meant to love.

  After all, how could she explain the feeling in her heart, the excitement in her soul when she looked at women like Story St. John, or the feeling she’d experienced at the polo match last year. Holly had mistaken one of the tall strapping polo players for a man, until Cammy informed her that he was a she. Their former military friend, Captain Quincy.

  She’d tried to forget the way she’d felt when Captain Quincy had pulled off her polo helmet. She’d revealed an utterly gorgeous butch woman, with the most beautiful eyes and chiselled cheekbones, that made Holly’s stomach flip and other parts ache.

  Holly had avoided Quincy that day. She’d excused herself, and went to chat up one of the eager men there. For so long, she’d sought out men who simply wanted sex. Because while she could enjoy sex, she didn’t want to give away her heart. Not again. She’d given away her heart a long time ago to a woman, and had her heart broken to pieces. Never again.

  “Holls?” she heard Lali say and forced a smile on her face.

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you think maybe—”

  “No. Don’t even say it,” Holly said with a tinge of sharpness in her voice.

  Lali, Greta, and Bea looked at each other.

  “Sorry, girls. I’m just a bit tired,” Holly said.

  She was rescued from the awkwardness when Sam came into the room and bowed. “Your Majesties. Nanny Baker is asking if you could come up to the nursery. Princess Edwina is a little distressed, and Nanny thinks she might have a fever.”

  Bea looked at George and said, “I knew something was wrong this afternoon.”

  George put her glass down. “Would you excuse us?”

  As George and Bea left the room, Holly said to her friends. “I better get going too.”

  Little did her friends know that she was going home to watch a Story St. John film and eat her way through a tub of ice cream.

  ***

  Quincy sat beside the hospital bed of her friend, Lieutenant Jacob Goldman. She had been here for the last hour, sitting quietly by his bed while he slept. The volume in the room might have been quiet, apart from the occasional beep of a machine, but her head was anything but.

  Jacob was covered head to foot in white dressings, with only a portion of his face untouched by the explosion and flames that had ravaged his body. Jacob and his wife Helen had been good friends since officer training school—well, as good friends as Quincy could ever have. They understood her limitations and never pushed her into social situations she couldn’t cope with.

  The guilt and anger that she hadn’t been able to get to her friend in time to save him ravaged Quincy even more when she visited him here. She asked herself the same question she did every time she saw and heard the pain he was in. Why could it not have been me instead?

  Jacob had a wife, children, a life, while Quincy had nothing to lose. Life was just not fair.

  She looked at her watch and thought she’d better be leaving soon. Just as she was about to stand, Jacob’s raspy voice said, “I know what you’re thinking.”

  Quincy didn’t even realize he was awake. “What was I thinking?”

  “What you always do, what I would think if I was in your shoes, torturing myself for what I could have done differently,” Jacob said.

  Quincy cleared her throat nervously. He could always tell what she was thinking.

  “I have to report to Buckingham Palace shortly. I just wanted to say goodbye,” Quincy said.

  “The big American tour, eh?”

  She knew Jacob didn’t mean it this way, but Quincy hated that she would be off living and experiencing the world while he was stuck here in agony.

  “Yes, I’ll call Helen and make sure you’re behaving for the nurses,” Quincy said.

  Jacob started to laugh, then began to cough instead. Quincy jumped up and gave him a sip of water.

  “It’s a great honour to be serving the Queen,” Jacob said.

  “It is,” Quincy replied.

  Jacob looked straight into her eyes and said, “Promise me one thing, Quin. Live a life, have some fun. I know you hide yourself away, but you’ve only got one life, and you never know when it will be taken away.”

  Quincy nodded, but she didn’t know if she really meant it. How could she live a life when Jacob couldn’t?

  “Promise me, Quin,” Jacob repeated.

  She smiled and said, “I promise.”

  Quincy said her goodbyes and walked out of the hospital room. She found Helen waiting there. Quincy couldn’t imagine a better wife than Helen. No matter what they’d been through, she always remained positive and kept Jacob going.

  “You said your goodbyes, then?” Helen said.

  “Yes, I’ll call you when I get to the States,” Quincy said.

  Helen leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I know what Jacob asked of you. I also know how hard it is for you to socialize at the best of times—the admiral has left her mark on you, now even more so. But I want you to promise me too, Quin. You have to grab for life, and love, and hold on. Promise me?”

  Quincy gave her a forced smile. “Promise.”

  She reached into her suit jacket pocket and brought out her Victoria Cross. “Give this to Jacob, will you. He is braver than I could ever be.”

  ***

  Quincy was led along the corridor of Buckingham Palace by a footman. She followed him downstairs, and as she did the walls and decor became less ornate. She guessed this was the staff area of the palace.

  The downstairs corridors and rooms were busy with people coming and going, the noise of chatter, and shouts of instructions. This was truly the palace engine room, the place that made everything run smoothly.

  The footman stopped. “It’s just in here, Captain.”

  “Thank you.” Quincy knocked and heard someone tell her to come in.

  She opened the door and found herself in a state of the art operations room, nothing like the historic, antique palace outside this room. There was a huge conference table surrounded by desks, with what appeared to be the latest in security equipment and computer interfaces.

  Around the conference table sat a team of plain-clothes men and women and, at the head, Inspector Lang, whom she had already met.

  “Quincy, come in and take a seat,” Inspector Lang said.

  “Thank you, sir.”

 
; Quincy joined the five protection officers at the table, all but one of whom had their eyes glued to her. One woman at the end of the table didn’t even look her way. She was dressed smartly in a blouse and tailored slacks and had her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail.

  Inspector Lang stood and said, “Everyone, this is Captain Quincy. She joins us after a distinguished career in the Royal Marines and has trained for the past six months with the Royal Military Police before joining us.” He turned to Quincy. “Quincy, these are the more senior officers in the squad, except Captain Cameron—she is assisting the Queen at the moment, but I believe you already know her?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  She heard the woman at the end mutter under her breath, “Yeah, you’re very well protected.”

  “Sorry, Garrett?” Inspector Lang said.

  The woman she now knew as Garrett gave him a smile. “Nothing, sir.”

  Lang narrowed his eyes and continued, “This is Boothby, and Jones.” He pointed to two sharp-suited men who politely nodded their heads. “And this is a recent recruit, Veronica Clayton.” He pointed to a young woman sitting a few chairs away. “She will be working under your command for the Queen Consort and the princess. The Queen and I felt you needed another pair of eyes with a toddler running around.”

  The Queen had asked Quincy to help train a younger member of the team, with an eye to the future when Princess Edwina would need her own guard.

  Clayton gave her the warmest welcome in the room, smiling and walking around the table to shake her hand. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. It’s an honour to work with a VC,” Clayton said.

  Garrett sighed audibly, but Quincy froze at the mention of her Victoria Cross. She wished no one knew about it. It symbolized her failure as a leader, and shame slithered around her gut.