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The English Bride

Page 30

by Joan Wolf


  The spectators' gallery jutted out over the door, so Charity couldn't see the royal procession until it was on its way up the aisle. The first person to come into her view was the Lord High Steward, Count Mark Helmer, who wore his state robes and carried the staff of state on a crimson velvet cushion trimmed with gold braid. He was followed by the Lord High Constable, who was carrying the sword of state. After these two noble members of the Prince's ceremonial household came the President of the Chamber of Commons, Viktor Becker, and the Chief Minister of State, Lord Stefan Weyr.

  At long last Augustus came into her view. He was plainly dressed in a black frock coat, white breeches, and Hessian boots. He wore the gold sash of his army rank under his coat, along with a white waistcoat and a white tie. Around his shoulders hung the royal robe of state, and upon his head he wore the ruby-encrusted crown of Jura.

  There was no ovation for Augustus. The occasion was too solemn for such an unbridled outburst of feeling. Everyone present was aware of how narrowly Jura had averted a disastrous constitutional crisis. Even the older men, who regretted seeing their powers pass to another generation, were relieved that their rightful prince still sat on his throne.

  The procession reached the front of the chamber and Augustus stepped up on the dais and took his seat upon the throne. The folds of his red velvet cloak fell neatly around him and the diamond badge of the Order of St. Michael, Jura's highest honor, glittered on his shoulder. The President of the Commons stood at the right of the throne and the Chief Minister stood at its left. After putting the staff of state into the Prince's hand, the Lord High Steward took his place behind Augustus, as did the Lord High Constable.

  "His Royal Highness asks that you be seated," the Lord High Steward intoned, and the men representing the nobles and commons of Jura did as requested. Silence reigned as everyone looked at Augustus.

  He looks so natural sitting there, Charity thought. It never ceases to amaze me how comfortable he can look under such intense scrutiny.

  It was tradition for the Prince to make a speech to the diet before declaring it officially open, and this is what the chamber was waiting for. Charity, who knew what Augustus was going to say, was anxious to see how his words would be received.

  The Prince began to speak, his voice quiet yet perfectly audible even to those in the spectator's gallery. "My lords and gentlemen," he began. "Today is a momentous occasion in the history of our country. Thanks to your faith in me, we have together averted a crisis that would certainly have disrupted our nation's political and economic well-being and which may have ended in the ultimate loss of seven hundred years of independence."

  The Prince was not speaking from a prepared text but instead was looking directly at his audience in such a way that later each man would feel that Augustus had been speaking personally to him.

  "I was born and reared to be the Prince of Jura," he said. "All of my schooling and my military training was directed toward this end. Pride in the independence and the economic strength of my country has been instilled in me since my earliest years." Here the Prince paused and let his gaze move slowly around the chamber. "When Jura was overcome by Napoleon, I did my best to thwart the ongoing occupation by the French. And when the French were finally defeated, I did my best in Vienna to convince the other countries that Jura deserved to keep its seven-hundred-year-old independence." He paused and looked for a moment at the staff of state he held in his right hand. "I was successful in accomplishing this, and Jura's independence was recognized by all of the Great Powers of Europe in the Final Act of the Congress of Vienna."

  Once more his gray gaze flicked from face to face in the audience. "My lords and gentlemen, I pledge to you today that I will uphold that independence for as long as there is breath in my body."

  For the first time the absolute silence in the chamber was broken by a stir of movement.

  Augustus waited before he went on. "Our history is a proud one, but I am well aware that a nation that looks only to the past is a nation that has lost its energy. I do not wish that to happen to Jura. The late great struggle with France has caused revolutionary ideas of nationalism and constitutionalism to spread around Europe. In regard to nationalism, we are fortunate that Jura has long been an independent nation - something for which other European peoples have long yearned.

  "My family has ruled Jura in relative peace and prosperity for five hundred years. But I understand that the role of a ruling prince is changing in today's world. Today we have a better-educated population than ever before. Today we have a thriving middle class well able to make informed decisions about national policy."

  The room was so quiet that it didn't seem as if anyone could be breathing.

  The Prince went on. "For all the time that the Adamov family has ruled Jura, the diet's chief responsibility has been the levying and distribution of internal taxes. This is a great and solemn power, but I think that the time has come for the educated representatives of Jura's population to take a more active role in the governing of our country."

  A great sigh ran around the room, as if a collective breath had been let out.

  Augustus said evenly, "In my judgment, it is time for Jura to become a constitutional as well as a princely state, and I am willing to work with the members of the diet to achieve that end."

  Charity's heart was swelling with pride and tears were running down her face.

  "I was reared to believe that my sacred duty was always to do my best for my country. I have done that in the past and I hope to continue to do that in the future."

  Slowly Augustus rose to his feet. He lifted the staff of state until it was upright in front of him and said, "I declare this session of the National Diet of Jura to be open, and I will leave you gentlemen to your deliberations."

  The silence in the room was electric as the Prince returned down the aisle and exited through the doors from which he had entered. The sound of the door closing echoed through the chamber. Then pandemonium broke out.

  Charity wiped the tears from her face as she watched the assembled diet react to Augustus's speech. The response of the nobles was mixed; the younger ones were excited while the older ones looked dour. The commons, on the other hand, were ecstatic.

  Emil’s voice sounded in her ear. "Do you wish to leave now, Your Highness?"

  She plied her handkerchief one more time, annoyed with herself for her emotional display. "Yes, I am ready," she replied, and she and her party returned down the stairs.

  The chamber was still in an uproar. Stefan Weyr and Viktor Becker, the President of the Commons, were standing together talking, neither of them making the slightest attempt to bring order to the assembly. Charity turned to Emil and said, "I do not want to walk down that aisle again. Let's go out the back door."

  Emil's eyes flew to Stefanie, who said immediately, "Your Highness, that door is reserved for the Prince's use only."

  "Augustus won't mind if I use his door," Charity said. "I really do not want to parade past those men again."

  Harry said practically, "If we leave now, no one will even notice us."

  'Then let us go." Charity put her hand on Harry's arm and walked determinedly toward the wide double door that was set under the spectator's gallery. Reluctantly, the rest of her party followed.

  The street outside was empty. "Gus probably has the coach waiting for you at the other door, Your Highness," Emil said. "If you will wait here, I'll go and fetch him."

  "Thank you, Emil," Charity said.

  Five minutes later the matched Lipizzaners turned the corner, followed by the shining black royal coach. It pulled up in front of the curb and Emil jumped out.

  The liveried footman who was riding next to the coachman set the steps for Charity and she entered the coach and took her seat next to Augustus. Harry looked in and said with a display of rare tactfulness, "I'll go back to the Pfalz with Emil."

  "Thank you, Harry," the Prince said gravely.

  The footman closed the door and climbed
back to his seat next to the coachman. The coachman made a kissing sound and the Lipizzaners moved forward. Charity turned to her husband. "You were wonderful!"

  His smile was wry. "The idea of shared responsibility is easy to suggest; the implementation is going to be much more complicated."

  "That is true, but you will do it."

  "I hope so. Your country offers us an excellent model of how ruler and legislature can work together."

  "Oh, you are not going to copy the Americans, then?" she said with mock innocence.

  "Please. I don't want to put myself completely out of a job," he replied with rueful irony.

  She laughed and reached out to take his hand.

  "That is why I made the proposal," he went on. "In my heart, I know I am perfectly capable of running Jura in an effective and enlightened manner, but if rulers don't bend with the times, sooner or later they are going to find themselves pushed out of their jobs whether they want to go or not."

  “That’s what happened to Charles the First in England,” Charity said. “The poor man lost his head because he wouldn’t bend with the times.”

  “I do not wish to be another Charles the First,” he said emphatically.

  “He was a stupid man.”

  Silence fell between them as the coach began to cross the bridge over the Kava. When they reached the other side Charity said, "I hope you don't mind my using your special door, Augustus, but I did not want to walk by all those hysterical men."

  He raised their clasped hands to his mouth and kissed her fingers. "You can have anything of mine that you want."

  She sighed. "I am so happy it's almost frightening."

  His hand tightened. "Don't be frightened. I am going to make very certain that you remain happy for the rest of your life."

  Charity felt the tears prickling behind her eyes. "Oh no," she wailed, "I'm going to cry again. I can't seem to stop myself."

  "That's all right," he said tenderly. He regarded her magnificent headwear. "I would like to hug you, but that bonnet is in my way."

  That made her laugh. "I'll take it off."

  "That would be a help."

  She untied the emerald green ribbon under her chin and removed her velvet bonnet. Then she moved closer and rested her head on his shoulder. He slipped his arm around her waist.

  There was silence for a while as the well-sprung coach rolled over the paved road that led from the river to the Pfalz. Then all of a sudden Charity's stomach growled. The Prince laughed, and she removed herself from her place in his arms and looked up at him. "Do you know, I didn't feel sick this morning." Her brown eyes were amazed. "And I'm starving! I haven't been this hungry in months."

  He grinned. "That is good news."

  She frowned thoughtfully. "What do I want to eat?"

  "I have no idea," he replied.

  Her face lit up. "I know. Strawberries! I must have some strawberries!"

  The Prince refrained from pointing out that it was February and hardly strawberry season. The staff would find strawberries somewhere, he thought with confidence. He looked into his wife's glowing face and said firmly, "Then strawberries you shall have."

  About the Author

  Joan Wolf is a USA TODAY bestselling author, whose acclaimed Regency romances have earned her national recognition as a master of the genre. Her many historical and contemporary romances have been highly praised by reviewers and authors alike. Publisher's Weekly reviewed one of her novels as "historical fiction at its finest." Joan was born in New York City but has lived most of her life in Connecticut with her husband, two children and numerous dogs and cats. An avid rider, she enjoys featuring horses in her novels.

  Joan Wolf never fails to deliver the best.

  NORA ROBERTS

  Joan Wolf is absolutely wonderful. I've loved her work for years.

  Iris Johansen

  As a writer, she's an absolute treasure.

  Linda Howard

  The English Bride

  Joan Wolf

  Copyright 2001, 2014 by Joan Wolf

  Table of Contents

  NOTE TO READERS

  Part One

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  Part Two

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  About the Author

  Copyright 2001, 2014 by Joan Wolf

 

 

 


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