“I can manage,” George said tightly.
“And don’t depend on inheriting your godfather’s fortune. He may be eighty, but he could live another dozen years.”
His father’s threats bounced off him as if he were wearing a suit of armor. George didn’t have to worry about the Foreign Office or being sent to Austria any more, or hope that a man he barely knew would die and leave him his money. George was now a working man with a salary. He had options, choices—and they felt more powerful than any crown.
“I can’t control your decisions, Father. But I can control my own. If you wish to cut off my allowance, which you already threaten to do on a weekly basis, do it. But I’m done living underneath your thumb. You can write to Lord Loftus and tell him that I won’t be coming to Austria any time soon. Unless he’d like me to build a bridge or a railroad.”
And with that, George walked away. It felt amazing.
Chapter 23
The morning of Christmas Eve, Drina returned to the castle library and was surprised to see Alice there. She was sitting on one side of the sofa by the arched window, Mr. Ruland was sitting in the middle, and Prince Louis on the other side. They were all speaking amicably in German about the record-breaking cold weather Windsor Castle was experiencing this Christmas.
This isn’t going to help their courtship at all.
“Hello, Alice, Prince Louis, and Mr. Ruland,” Drina said, with a curtsy.
They all returned her greeting.
“Mr. Ruland, the Prince of Wales requires assistance on a German letter he is writing,” Drina lied. “Would you be so kind as to go and help him?”
He shook his head and stroked his goatee. “But I’m chaperoning, Lady Alexandrina. I cannot leave Princess Alice alone with a suitor.”
“I’ll stay with them the entire time until you return,” she assured him. “And Bertie was quite insistent that he needed you right away.”
Mr. Ruland still looked unsure, but Drina ushered him out of the library before he could protest further, and shut the door behind him.
“I thought Bertie was still in bed,” Alice said in English. “He was out quite late with Prince Friedrich. I believe they left for town after the dancing last night.”
“I have no idea where Bertie is,” Drina replied mischievously. She sat down on Alice’s other side so that the princess was between her and Prince Louis. “Budge over a bit. I’m falling off.”
Alice scooted a little closer to the prince.
“Did you know, Prince Louis,” Drina began, “that Alice is very interested in nursing and in women’s rights and education?”
“I didn’t,” he said with a thick German accent. “But I’m eager to hear more.”
Drina stood up. “I’m sure Alice could tell you all about it. I’m going to find a nice big book about dead people and read it … over there.”
Smiling to herself, she walked back to the legal section they had begun searching the day before. She ran her fingers over the spines of leather-bound volumes until she found a thick book on parliamentary bills from 1700 to 1750 and pulled it out. Blowing off the dust from the top, she heaved it over to the chair by the fireplace. She flicked through a few pages, but didn’t see anything pertaining to female heirs. It was pretty dull stuff on the whole.
Drina peeked over at Alice and Prince Louis—their dark heads were together in close conversation. She didn’t know what they were saying, of course, but she hoped it was a more exciting topic than the cold weather.
Mr. Ruland opened the door to the library. “His Royal Highness isn’t in the family rooms. Princess Helena hasn’t seen him at all this morning.”
“He must have become impatient waiting for you,” Drina lied smoothly. “Why don’t you check the Queen’s apartments?”
Mr. Ruland looked from Drina to where Alice and Prince Louis were seated at the sofa. “I’m not—”
“Yes,” Alice piped up, “I believe I did see my brother head toward my mother’s apartments. I’m sure he’ll be very grateful for your assistance with the letter, Mr. Ruland.”
“Very well, Princess Alice,” he said, and bowed to her before leaving.
Alice blushed a little as she leaned even closer to Prince Louis. Drina yawned and flipped several more pages and read about private parliamentary acts. They were interesting, but not particularly helpful about entails or primogeniture.
Not that she really expected to see any parliamentary bills about primogeniture. The law had existed in England since the Norman conquest in 1066 and it stated that the eldest son would inherit all the land instead of it being equally divided among the children. It protected a family’s wealth and prominence while keeping large estates intact. And entails were usually part of deeds of settlement, which gave the eldest son the right to the income from the estate, but didn’t allow him to sell the land or to mortgage it. Even entails had their limits. They could only exist until the grandson of the man who created the entail turned twenty-one. The difficulty was that Drina’s deceased grandfather, who had created their entail, had no grandsons. In such cases as these, the estate usually went to a distant male cousin.
Daughters didn’t typically inherit estates in England, which she thought was ridiculous and entirely unfair. But Drina didn’t have any cousins from the Gailey line, male or female. Her grandfather had been the only child of an only son. Her father had already outlived his two brothers. And when he died, all of her family’s property would go to the government, leaving Drina with nothing.
She closed the heavy book and then opened it to a random page and began reading about a special parliamentary bill by John Churchill, the 1st Duke of Marlborough.
Drina’s eyes widened: The bill allowed Churchill’s estate and title to go to his eldest daughter.
“I can’t believe it,” Drina said aloud, pressing her hands to her suddenly hot cheeks.
“What?” Alice asked. “What can’t you believe?”
“In 1706, a special parliamentary act allowed a daughter not only to inherit the estate, but the title as well!”
“Who?”
“Lady Henrietta Churchill. Her brother predeceased her father, Lord John Churchill, and he wanted his estate and title to go to his eldest daughter. She became the second Duchess of Marlborough in 1722.”
“That’s just what we needed!”
“It says she held the title ‘suo jure,’” Drina read.
“What does suo jure mean?” Prince Louis asked.
“I don’t know,” she admitted, shaking her head.
“It’s Latin,” Alice explained. “It means that she held the title through her own right, not through marriage.”
“Which means that either with a royal dispensation or a special act of parliament, I would be able to be the fourth Marchioness of Rothfield, suo jure,” Drina said excitedly. “I would be able to keep my home, fortune, and family’s title.”
“This calls for a celebration,” Prince Louis said, standing up. “Let’s see what we can find in the kitchens.”
He held out his arm for Alice. She shyly placed her hand on it and allowed him to help her stand. “But what about poor Mr. Ruland?”
“I’m sure he’ll find us eventually,” Prince Louis said in German.
“You two go,” Drina said, grinning. “I’ll catch up with you in a few moments. I want to read through the details one more time.”
Prince Louis gave her a grateful smile and led Alice toward the door. The princess glanced over her shoulder at Drina, who winked at her.
She had no intention of catching up with them.
* * *
Two hours later, Alice poked her head back into the library. “How is your chaperoning going, dear?”
“Smashingly, I hope,” Drina said, grinning as she set aside another heavy law tome that she’d been looking in for a second precedent to further bolster her case. “Please say you two behaved shockingly while you were alone.”
Alice’s eyes sparkled and she smiled. �
��Entirely shockingly.”
Drina squealed. “Oooh! Did he kiss you?”
“No!” Alice said, sitting beside her.
Drina took her friend’s hands. “Did you kiss him?”
“Of course not!”
“Alice!” Drina complained. “Don’t keep me in suspense. I have no suitor of my own, so I must live vicariously through you. I need every scandalous detail.”
The princess blushed rosily. “He held my hand.”
The bubble of excitement in Drina’s chest popped like it had been pricked by a sharp pin. She blinked in disappointment. Trust the royal family’s propriety to waste a perfectly good opportunity. “That’s it?”
“I told him that it is best to be quite honest about one’s feelings, and then I asked him how he felt about me.”
“How very bold of you,” Drina said, leaning forward. “What did he say?”
Alice bit her lip to suppress a smile. “That he’d requested my photograph after his visit in June and that he’d looked at it often because he thought I was so beautiful.”
“You are,” she said, her heart warming toward the stiff German prince. Perhaps he was worthy of her dearest friend after all. “What else did you talk about?”
“I’m afraid that I did most of the talking,” Alice said with a chuckle. “It is our family’s failing after all.”
“Very true!” Drina said, laughing with her friend.
“I thought that he only cared about hunting and his next meal. But he listened with insight and sympathy as I talked about women’s education and health reform,” Alice said, glowing as she spoke. “I do believe I’ve misjudged him; he was in no way deficient in understanding … And as you have so aptly put, he is very nice to look at.”
“Prince Louis is the handsomest of princes,” Drina said, and then could wait no longer to ask the question burning in her mind: “Will you pick him as your prince?”
“He is so dear and kind,” Alice whispered. “I think I might even love him.”
“Love!?” Drina exclaimed, squeezing her friend’s hands tightly.
“Should he ask … I will accept.”
“Oh, he’ll ask!” Drina said. “He’s besotted with you.”
They squealed together like schoolgirls and hugged each other tightly.
Chapter 24
George left for dinner early, hoping to see Drina. He had her Christmas present in his jacket pocket and he couldn’t wait to give it to her. But when he arrived in the reception room, she was already on the arm of Prince Friedrich. They were standing next to Princess Alice and Prince Louis and all four were laughing and looking like they were having a jolly good time together. He watched them for several moments, when he felt someone standing behind him.
Before he could turn around, he heard his brother say, “So, a little bird told me that you aren’t going to live under Father’s thumb anymore.”
“Is Father still livid?”
“Very,” Edward said with his usual teasing smile. “He railed about disinheriting you, crossing your name out of the family Bible, and never mentioning you again.”
“What did you say?”
“I was tempted to agree with him, you know,” Edward said. “More money for me and all that. But it is Christmas Eve, so I went and spoke with Mother and convinced her to be indulgent of your engineering folly and let you give it a go. I’ve even prevailed upon her to settle a sum of money on you so that you may be financially free of Father and his whims.”
George was speechless. He opened his mouth and then closed it. Then opened it again, but no words would come out. His brother, of all people, had come to his aid when he needed it most.
Edward put a hand on George’s hair and mussed it up. “Happy Christmas, little brother.”
“I—I—”
“It was worth it just to see you speechless for once in your life,” Edward said, clapping him hard on the back.
“Thank you,” he said with a gulp. His gaze had somehow ended up on Drina again.
Edward put his arm around George’s shoulders. “If I were you,” he whispered into George’s ear, “I’d take advantage of the mistletoe before you miss your opportunity.”
He shrugged his brother’s arm off. “I don’t need your advice.”
Edward grinned even wider and shook his head. “Oh, but you do, little brother. You do.”
The wretched fates proved Edward correct. The Queen and Prince Albert entered the reception room and began the procession to the State Dining Room. Prince Friedrich took Drina’s arm and followed Princess Alice and Prince Louis. The only lady left was Lady Clara. George offered her his arm and sat next to her at dinner.
George was delighted when Lady Clara and the rest of the ladies left the gentlemen to drink their port. He poured himself a large glass and steadily avoided his brother’s laughing eyes and his father’s angry ones. He found Prince Louis beside him, pouring his second glass of port and looking positively unwell. His face was flushed red and his hands were shaking.
“Are you all right?” George asked him.
“Ja,” Prince Louis said, nodding absentmindedly. He kept pressing his hand against his coat pocket.
“Got something important in there?” he asked.
Prince Louis reached his hand into it and pulled out a silver brooch. “It is a present for Princess Alice. Do you think she will like it?”
“Yes,” George said. “Ladies love pretty baubles.”
Prince Louis drank the rest of his port and was about to pour himself a third glass, but George took the bottle from his hands.
“Bad idea,” he said kindly. “The royal family decorates their tree on Christmas Eve and then exchanges presents. You don’t want to be foxed.”
“Foxed?”
“Drunk,” George explained.
“I’m so, so … anxious? Is that the right word?”
He shrugged. “Anxious about what?”
“My visit to England is almost over,” he said, squeezing the brooch in his hand. “I mean to ask Princess Alice to marry me tonight.”
“Anxious and nervous are probably both the right words,” George said, giving the prince a smile of encouragement. “Best of luck.”
“I think I’m going to need it,” Prince Louis said. He lifted the glass to his lips, as if he’d forgotten it was empty, with shaking hands.
George nodded sympathetically. “Just tell her how you feel.”
“Fill?”
“Your feelings. Tell her that you love her,” George said, thinking about Drina. “That there is no other person in the whole world that you’d rather be near than her.”
Prince Louis smiled. “I like your words very much, Lord Worthington. I think, with your permission, I will say something similar but in German.”
“You have it,” George said.
Both he and Prince Louis followed Prince Albert and the rest of the gentlemen to join the ladies. The royal children were already putting gingerbread decorations on the tallest Christmas tree that George had ever seen. Princess Alice and Drina were hanging nuts and ornaments on the tree and laughing together. Queen Victoria herself was lighting the candles.
“Ask her now,” George said, gently pushing Prince Louis toward Princess Alice. “Before you lose your nerve.”
Prince Louis nodded and went up to Princess Alice. They walked together away from the enormous Christmas tree to the fireplace on the other side of the room. George watched their exchange, and he wasn’t the only one; Drina’s and Queen Victoria’s eyes were also on them.
Queen Victoria handed her lighter to Bertie and walked past the couple, as if to go to another room. Prince Louis and Princess Alice stopped her.
“Prince Louis has proposed,” Alice said, blushing and smiling.
“Your Majesty, Queen Victoria,” Prince Louis said, extending his hand. “May we have your blessing?”
Queen Victoria took his hand and squeezed it with her two plump hands. “Certainly.”
; George looked at Drina, who was smiling broadly at her friend. Queen Victoria called for her husband and he came immediately. Prince Albert was told the news and he embraced his daughter and then shook Prince Louis’s hand vigorously.
“A beloved newly bestowed full-grown son,” Prince Albert said, loud enough for the entire room to hear. Prince Louis beamed in triumph.
George reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out Drina’s present. But she was no longer standing by the Christmas tree. Bertie was also strangely absent.
George spun on his foot and left the room, shoving his gift back into his pocket.
He was being a fool. Drina was clearly meant to be a queen and he, well, at least he would be an engineer.
Chapter 25
Drina looked from Alice, who was beaming with happiness, to Friedrich by her side. “I’m so glad that Alice found her perfect prince.”
“And I’m so glad it wasn’t me,” Friedrich said with a wicked smile.
She laughed.
“Come over here, Drina,” he said. “I have something for you.”
They walked to a corner of the room behind the Christmas tree, which blocked their view of the other guests. Friedrich pulled a Christmas card out of his pocket and handed it to Drina. “When I first saw this, I thought only of you.”
She turned over the card to see a picture of a hideous snow monster holding holly and giving a creepy smile to a little red robin. Drina laughed so hard that she snorted. “It’s so hideous!”
“Read the back.”
Drina turned it over and read: From your devoted knight and cousin, Friedrich.
She threw her arms around him and gave him a quick hug. “I love it!”
Her cousin returned the embrace and when she let go, Drina handed him two Christmas cards.
“Two?”
“I couldn’t pick just one,” she admitted. “They were both gruesomely perfect.”
Friedrich turned over the card with the dead robin first and burst out laughing. He shook his head. “You English are crazy. Who sends pictures of dead birds to their friends and family for a Christmas greeting?”
A Royal Christmas Quandary Page 16
