Princess of Athelia

by Aya Ling

  I turn around, a bright smile pasted on my face. “I told you I’m fine. Seriously.”

  “It is not your own nervousness that you are concerned about.”

  He knows.

  “Edward, I . . .”

  He sighs and holds out his arms, but he drops them when a few servants rush by. No intimacy is allowed in the palace, at least not when there’s an audience.

  “What did we agree to that day in my garden?”

  “To make the remaining days I have with you the happiest you have ever lived,” I whisper. There’s a lump in my throat and I keep my gaze anywhere but on his face.

  “And you are not upholding your side of the promise.”

  “I know.” My voice is normal, but I feel like shouting in the corridor. “But this isn’t fair to you! I wish I didn’t have to go. I’m not going to be queen, and there’s no way I can make it up to you.”

  “Kat, don’t—”

  “I wish there were someone for you,” I say savagely. I clench my fists and let go. “If only there were someone who could make you happy after I . . .”

  He silences me with a fingertip on my lips. “Say no more. I knew the consequences, and I’m willing to go through this. Even if it means you must leave me eventually.”

  “I’m not worth it.”

  “For me, you are.”

  My breath catches in my throat. He’s not helping things a bit. He’s only making me feel worse.

  Edward caresses my cheek, his palm warm against my skin. “Listen to me, Kat. I am well aware that you feel guilty about leaving me behind. Most likely I would feel the same if I were in your place. But after all the effort of trying to make you love me . . . now that I finally have you, my only wish is that our moments together will not be wasted. We certainly shouldn’t spend our time devising another woman for me; it will only cause pain for both of us. Do not ever, mention finding someone; I do not want to hear of it again. Now”—he plants a lightning-fast kiss on my forehead—“go back to your room and ask Amelie to commence packing. Philip expects us in a few days.”

  8

  “I’d give anything to see what they are doing up there,” I whisper.

  “I doubt there is much to see. Bertram has rarely managed to form more than one coherent sentence when he talks to Amelie. However, I confess that I share your sentiment.”

  The carriage rumbles on the road, taking us on the journey to Northport. Edward and I sit together, my head on his lap, his fingers playing idly in my hair. Strictly speaking, Amelie should be riding with us, but Edward ordered her to sit outside on the box with Bertram. She had obeyed him without question. I felt a little guilty for making her leave, but the look of hope on Bertram’s face silenced me.

  I can’t help feeling more cheerful now that we are leaving the palace. No stuffy lessons with Madame Dubois, no servants hanging around every corner I turn. Edward and I can have more chances to spend some quality time alone together. And I’m curious to see Northport. The queen told me that Duke Philip—I mean, Cousin Philip—enjoys a leisurely, luxurious life in the country, and his house is possibly the most beautiful one of all the country estates.

  “How long has Bertram had a crush—how long has he liked Amelie?” With nothing else to do in the carriage, I’m in the mood for gossip.

  “She came to replace a servant who was old enough to retire, but Bertram has known her since they were children since the two families have known each other for a long time. I cannot fix the exact time when he started behaving like a fool around her.”

  “Their families know each other already?”

  “Both their families have served us for generations back.”

  I process the information in my mind. This is something new to me. “Are the children of their families free to choose other careers?”

  “Certainly; they have the liberty to choose whatever path they prefer, but it is much easier to simply follow their parents’ footsteps. And compared to the risk of making a living in trade or being an apprentice for years, working at the palace is a relatively stable job. Room and board are covered, and the pay is stable.”

  “I suppose so. If you put it that way.” I shift my position and yelp. Several hairpins jab into my scalp. “If they knew each other for so long, I wonder why Bertram hasn’t done anything to show his interest. Surely he can’t be content to simply admire her from afar.”

  “He has tried to display his affection, but unfortunately, it turned out to be a tragedy.”

  I sit up. “Tell me,” I demand.

  “There was one day that Bertram came to the greenhouse and asked Galen if he could put together a bouquet before autumn sets in. Since Bertram never expressed an interest in flowers, Galen was naturally curious and asked him the purpose. At first Bertram was too embarrassed to admit that he wanted to give Amelie flowers—he made up a story about decorating his window—but I wormed the truth from him.”

  “And why is that a tragedy?”

  The corners of his mouth curve up. “Amelie is allergic to flowers. She was sneezing all the way to the hospital ward when she left him.”

  “That’s too bad,” I say, but I also can’t help feeling amused. “Bertram should have done his homework before he tried to give her a present.”

  Edward puts his hand over mine. “I’m glad that you aren’t allergic to flowers, or we’ll only have the storage room left for a secret tryst.”

  Here is one instance that I get all tongue-tied, as memories flood in my mind. During the ball, Bianca tried to go after Edward with a pair of magic-infused gloves. In a hasty decision, I shoved Edward inside a tiny storage room for cleaning supplies, which resulted in a passionate make-out session that would have made headlines if anyone had found us. To this day, I can’t pass that room without a sting of embarrassment.

  Not long after, we have to stop to let the horses rest. When I emerge from the carriage, Amelie lets out a noise of frustration and signals to me. She leads me a little way off from the procession and whips out a brush.

  “Tell His Highness to stop running his fingers in your hair.” She pulls the pins out and lets my hair fall past my back. “I’ve lost count of the occasions I’ve had to re-fashion your hair. At the very least, don’t allow him to mess up your hair before you have to look presentable.”

  Embarrassed, I fiddle with the lace on my sleeves. “Sorry.”

  “By the way, I thought that you should know that Miss Elle won’t be joining us in Northport.”

  “Why not?” I remember Edward mentioning that she did get an invitation.

  “She sent word that she had to look for qualified teachers for the girls’ school. I didn’t get the message until it was late, and I didn’t want to wake you up.”

  Oh well. I suppose that can’t be helped; knowing Elle, she would much prefer to do something more useful than attending parties. I wish I could do the same, but the invitation is aimed primarily at me.

  I grip my elbows, feeling disappointed. Sure, I have Edward with me, but I’d like some female company as well. On the other hand, it might be just as well she can’t come. The duchess and Henry are bound to be there, and I’m sure Elle would feel horribly out of place and awkward if Lady Petunia is also present.

  When Edward learns that Elle is not going to show up, he falls silent for a moment, his expression pensive.

  “Is there something wrong?” I ask. “You look so serious.”

  He rubs the middle of his forehead. “Do you know what usually happens in autumn for the aristocracy?”

  “A lot of them go back to the country, since Parliament is closed.”

  “What would you do if you were cooped up in a huge mansion without all the excitement and parties going on in the capital during summer?”

  “Um . . .”

  “Why, you would hold your own parties at your house. It is impossible that my cousin would only invite Henry and me. Considering my cousin’s love of society, I estimate that there will be at least 20 to 30 nob
les waiting for us to arrive.”

  I feel my heart sinking. “After all the fuss and bustle of the Season?”

  “As a matter of fact, September and October are also known as the Little Season. Some mothers would try to secure a match if their daughters did not succeed in procuring a proposal in the main Season. That’s why I am particularly concerned for Henry. No doubt the duchess hopes to find him another girl so his ardor for Elle will cool down.”

  My head is swimming. I thought it was going to be a simple gathering of meeting his cousin. I didn’t sign up for another Season. Even though there’s no pressure now to find a husband, it doesn’t mean that I’m ready for another round of balls and parties and socializing.

  “In Athelia, if a man is found in a compromising position with a woman, he is often obligated to marry her to protect her reputation. Of course, this unwritten rule isn’t always enforced, but with Lady Petunia so keen on finding someone else for Henry, if there’s a suitable girl who is found alone with him . . . well, there is the possibility that he may cave in to pressure.” Edward turns my chin, making me look at him. There is no smile on his face at all. “In fact . . . I may as well warn you that both of us might also need to watch ourselves. It is unlikely, but not impossible, that some people have not completely relinquished the hope of becoming queen.”

  I stare at him. “But we’re practically engaged!”

  “I have made my intentions quite clear at the ball, but the fact remains that the formal ceremony has yet to take place.” He holds up my hand and brushes his fingers across my bare knuckles. As I try to avoid wearing too much jewelry, there’s nothing on my hands or wrists. “Neither of us wears an engagement ring yet. I wished to wait until our engagement was over to visit Cousin Philip, but it seems that he has broken his leg at a very opportune moment.”

  His hand tightens on my arm. “Promise me, Kat. If a man requests your company with him alone, do not follow him.”

  I highly doubt that is going to happen, plus it’s much more likely that he will be cornered by eager girls, but I nod and squeeze his hand. “I promise.”

  And to think I was looking forward to this trip. It sounds more like a nightmare.

  9

  Pemberley. That’s the first thing that comes to mind when we arrive at the country estate. Our carriage halts on a hill, and from there, I glimpse a museum-like building that is handsome, grand, and very like Pemberley in the Jane Austen movie. There’s even a sparkling lake right in front of it, surrounded by fir trees. Surreptitiously, I glance at Edward’s pristine white shirt peeking from his dark coat and look away quickly.

  “Pray tell me what is preying on your mind,” he says, a gleam in his hazel eyes. “I confess that every time you have a guilty look on your face, it amuses me and makes me wonder what outlandish notion has sprung up in that unconventional head of yours.”

  “Nothing.”

  He chucks my chin playfully, the heat from his skin warm against mine. “Out with it.”

  But I’m not ready to confess the fangirl part of my twenty-first-century mind. And even if I were, what are the chances of him jumping into the lake?

  I search wildly for a different topic. “So, what is your cousin like?”

  “Philip? Someone whom I was expected to emulate.”

  “What are you supposed to be like, then?” I mean, come on. Even if Philip’s shortcomings are very few, I should think Athelia could hardly ask for a better leader.

  Edward absentmindedly plays with my fingers and releases a deep breath. “Cousin Philip is, in many ways, my complete opposite. He is sociable, gregarious, and makes friends easily. And he excels at sports.”

  “But you are athletic,” I say incredulously, eyeing his muscular chest with fangirl approval. Although I have yet to see Edward half naked, I can testify that he has a mouth-watering physique. Every time I see him working in the greenhouse or in his private garden with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his shirt gaping to reveal a sheen of sweat on his collarbone, I still cannot prevent a deep blush creeping up my skin. He had tried to conceal his laughter and even casually told me that he should prance around shirtless just to see me flush and fidget.

  “I should modify that to team sports. I am afraid that I never took pleasure in rugby or cricket or football. I preferred the more solitary pleasures of archery and boxing. I simply do not work well in groups. Additionally, much of my strength is gained from shoveling earth and carrying flowerpots.”

  I picture Edward playing football with a group of rowdy young men. No, I can’t imagine him whooping or bellowing or yelling. He’s the kind who won’t follow orders; he prefers to go ahead and do things himself.

  “I guess that your cousin Philip didn’t play much with you when you were children.”

  “Actually, Philip is more than ten years my senior, so he used to take the role of an instructor instead. He meant well, I suppose, but try as I might, I couldn’t be like him. I am sure that you have noticed I am no socialite.”

  “Neither am I.” Which is perfectly fine, I want to say. If he were this playboy prince who loved to throw parties and balls, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with him.

  “When I was younger,” Edward says as he closes his eyes briefly, “there were times that I wished that Philip was heir to the throne, for he has fulfilled everything expected of a prince. He revels in interacting with large groups of people. And in addition to his easygoing character, he also married early to a most suitable woman and now has two sons and a daughter.”

  “Who cares about him?” I say, earning a smirk from him. “I know you and your character, Edward. You are perfect.”

  He raises his eyebrows.

  “Not all the time,” I hastily amend, “but I love you just the way you are.”

  He looks like he wants to kiss me again, but he doesn’t move. I wonder why—he rarely held back during previous occasions, but when I glance at the window, I understand why he’s restraining himself. The road leading up to the entrance of the duke’s house is flanked with crowds of villagers. The men have tweed caps similar to Ponytail Godfrey’s while the women wear aprons with dark gowns. Several children are also present, carrying bouquets of flowers.

  “Long live His Highness! Long live Her Highness!”

  I grab Edward’s arm. “These people . . . they are cheering for our arrival?”

  “I should think it obvious. They certainly are not here for Bertram.”

  “But there’s so many of them!”

  “It is not what I enjoy,” he says with the air of a man resigned to the inevitable, “but I have no influence over what my cousin wishes to do.”

  “Is this common—telling the people they have to line up and welcome us?”

  “It is usual for tenants to defer to a lord in return for the food baskets and medicine sent to them in aid. From what I’ve heard, Constance is used to having the village women curtsy to her whenever she visits.”

  I press my lips together. I know I should be used to the way royals are treated by now, but deep down inside, that modern part of me still squirms with discomfort. I haven’t done anything except catch the attention of the prince. And here are groups of people who never heard about me before, clapping and cheering as though I’ve saved the world.

  Edward gets off the carriage first and offers his hand. I place my hand in his and step out, taking great care not to trip in front of so many people.

  “Your Highness.” A young girl curtsies to me and holds out a cluster of baby-pink roses. “This is for you.”

  I accept the roses with a smile. “Thank you.”

  “Edward.” A deep, pleasant voice carries through the cool autumn air. A man with a well-trimmed beard limps toward us. He doesn’t use a walking stick or cane for support—I guess that’s why he has another man trailing behind, looking tense and apprehensive.

  “My little cousin, all grown up, bringing his chosen bride along for a visit. How wonderful it is to finally meet the lovel
y girl who has stolen my cousin’s heart.” He extends a hand to me. I have been instructed on the etiquette of greeting male relatives, so I give the brightest smile I can muster and take his hand. “It is a great pleasure to meet you as well, Cousin Philip. Edward has spoken highly of you.”

  He leans towards me and waggles his eyebrows, as though I’m a kid. “Don’t listen to him. Anything flattering he paints of me is untrue.”

  Then he gestures to a woman dressed in a fine brocaded gown. She’s beautiful—flawless porcelain skin, doll-like features, and pale-blond hair expertly coiffed and perfumed. She is no young girl, but I can tell she has gone to great lengths to maintain her youth. “Allow me to introduce my wife, Lady Constance, Duchess of Northport.”

  I am beginning to curtsy when I remind myself that I’m ranked higher than Constance. I quickly withdraw my hands from the thick folds of my gown and thread my fingers together at my stomach. I incline my head—gracefully, I hope—and smile.

  “I am very happy to make your acquaintance, Constance.”

  The woman returns a smile, gracious and polite, though she glances briefly at her husband. I’ve no idea what that glance conveys, but from the fleeting lift of eyebrows, it doesn’t seem to be flattering. Maybe she’s thinking that the prince’s fiancée really is as ordinary as the rumors say.

  But once she opens her mouth, her voice flows over us like honey. “Absolutely delighted to meet you, my dear. Do come in.” Constance embraces me, and I catch the scent of bergamot oil. “Our party is not complete without you.”

  I look back at the villagers, still lined up on both sides of the road. I can’t even see the little girl who gave me flowers. Of course, they aren’t invited to the party.

  Edward lays a hand on my elbow, indicating we should go inside. Servants hold the doors open, take our coats, and usher us through a long, handsomely furnished hall. Having seen the palace’s splendor, I’m not particularly impressed with Philip’s house, but the number of servants flitting around us makes me a bit dizzy. They all look the same—men in dark shirts and pants, women in black dresses and white aprons. Philip and Constance probably don’t have to do anything all day except to lift a finger or bark a command.