by Rachel Hauck
In three days, she was getting on the plane for home and never looking back. She could not, before God, interfere with Nathaniel’s destiny.
Besides, what did she have to bring to the royal table? Her extraordinary landscaping design skills? Her sharp people skills? How she stayed with a man she didn’t love for twelve years? With a somewhat alarming amount of contentment. Her ability to make a plan.
Or her waitressing and back-of-house skills she’d honed at the Rib Shack?
Need a baby with sweet, side fries, greens, and cinn apples.
“There’s Prince Colin.” Avery cracked Susanna in the ribs with her elbow, rising up to wave at the twenty-something prince, cousin to the king, a lower-ranking member of the House of Stratton, sitting in the forward pews.
Lean, aristocratic with an outdoorsman ruddiness, he nearly made Susanna swoon when he winked at Avery.
“Let me never wake up,” baby sister said, fainting back down to the pew, fanning herself.
“Wake up? I thought you never wanted to sleep.”
“Quiet,” Lady Margaret hissed, pointedly touching the brim of her hat. “The coronation is underway.”
Susanna scooted down an inch, ducking under the rebuke and the sea of hats in which she and Avery sat—remembering they were bareheaded.
No one said anything about hats! Susanna only hoped they weren’t offending the hallowed abbey or Nate’s family.
When the car arrived at Parrsons this morning at ten sharp to pick them up for the coronation, Rollins met Susanna at the bottom of the stairs with a look of bewilderment.
“What’s wrong?” In two short days, he’d become something of a confidant.
He cleared his throat and tilted his head toward Lady Margaret’s sprawling feathered chapeau. They needed hats? Panic. But with no time to shop, off they went to the coronation, rude and bareheaded.
Yet comfortable-in-her-own-skin Avery barely noticed. The difference in their upbringing surfaced in times like these.
Susanna was purposeful, watchful, as if on constant guard. Avery was spirited, confident, passionate, and deeply trusting. Beautiful. A low Georgia moon on a steamy night.
So here Susanna sat, bareheaded under an ornate hemispherical dome painted with images of holy life, a boys choir began to sing “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring,” and a royal guard marched with precision toward the altar, carrying Brighton banners of chivalry.
Chills raced over her skin, over her heart. The power of the organ and the crescendo of pitch-perfect voices awakened her heart.
Forget hats. Or how baby sister Avery was raised by the same parents but in a different house. Forget the beauty of a low Georgia moon.
She was here to witness a man being crowned king before men and God. All else paled. She closed her eyes. Be with Nate, Jesus.
The song ended, a celestial crown of notes and lyrics dripped gently from the hand of God, anointing them all.
The quiet stirred the air. The narthex doors opened and the congregation rose. Led by the archbishop and priests, Nathaniel entered dressed in simple white slacks and a button-down shirt. His eyes were intent and fixed straight ahead.
Susanna’s heart turned over in her chest.
“This is so sobering,” Avery whispered, linking her arm with Susanna’s.
“I know, I can hardly breathe.”
The archbishop took his place beside the throne and stood over a kneeling Nathaniel. From the side of the abbey, remote-control cameras drifted slowly, silently, over the congregation.
Susanna glanced at the ceremony program as they were instructed to sit. A procession of nobles dressed in blue robes entered from the side of the abbey carrying the regalia and artifacts of Brighton’s ancient coronation ritual.
Susanna watched Nate, her heart fluttering, her thoughts churning. What was he feeling? Or thinking? Her veins pulsed with anxiety and excitement for him. What a divine privilege to stand with the kings of the earth.
Nathaniel rose at the archbishop’s beckoning. In a strong, steady voice, he repeated his vows, pledging his life and loyalty to the people of Brighton and Hessenberg.
He vowed to uphold and defend Brighton’s laws, traditions, and antiquities, to defend her against enemies both foreign and domestic, to seek the good of all, to defend the faith and serve the Lord in all his ways, spoke his troth to honor King Stephen I, who dedicated the kingdom to the Lord and his Christ.
Her tears soaked the plains and valleys of her heart. Oh, Nathaniel, you are called to be Brighton’s regent. Gladness filled her. He had to run this kingly race. He must finish well. Even if it meant she’d never be a part of his life.
The archbishop uttered words in Latin and Greek, read scriptures, and prayed for the king, with booming sincerity, to follow in the ways of God, the church, and Brighton law.
When his voice felt silent, he placed a robe on Nathaniel’s shoulders. “The mantle of kings.” Then he set the tall, heavy, gold and gem-encrusted crown on his head. The archbishop called for the assembly to declare with joy, “Long live Nathaniel, king of Brighton Kingdom.”
Susanna raised her voice with all the people. “Long live Nathaniel, king of Brighton Kingdom.”
“Let us join together for a prayer of ascent.” The archbishop raised his hands to the congregation, inviting them to pay homage to the Lord by kneeling and praying for Nathaniel. The abbey itself seemed to bow as the guests lowered to their knees. Susanna meant to kneel along with them but she stood instead.
With the hats and heads out of her way, she had a clear, unobstructed view of King Nathaniel II in all of his glory. In his bejeweled crown and brilliant royal robes.
He stole her breath. He was a king among men. A king in heaven. She felt his destiny, and it seemed to awaken yet comfort her own destiny yearnings.
Just as he bowed to pray, Nathaniel shifted his stance and looked out over the abbey. In that split second, his eyes found hers and invited her into the moment with him.
She pressed her hand over her heart. I’m with you. A very faint smiled tugged on the edge of his lips as he bowed in prayer. Just in time for the archbishop’s first somber words, “O, Lord of heaven and earth …”
“Suz, why are you standing?” Avery said in a hoarse whisper, jerking on Susanna’s hand. “Kneel.”
She dropped to the kneeler, her heart cooling. Being swept away by the splendor and fairy-tale likeness of last night and today was foolish. Fantasy and dreams would not be her friend once she returned home.
Had she not learned her lesson with Adam?
But she prayed for Nathaniel, putting her prayers in the bowls of heaven along with the archbishop’s and the rest of the coronation guests.
But oh, she couldn’t help herself. She peeked at Nate again. He was on his knees, bent forward with his head to the altar carpet, his crown removed and on the floor beside him. Another robed bishop came to the pulpit to pray, casting Nate a curious glance, but the king never lifted his head.
When the prayers ended, the guests returned to their seats and joined in the choir’s hymn. The archbishop stooped over and tapped Nathaniel on the shoulder. For a tense moment, he didn’t move, then rose up, somber, with a posture that seemed to unnerve the holy man. He moved to the pulpit and read Psalm 21 as the bishop returned the crown to Nathaniel’s head.
“The king rejoices in your strength, Lord. How great is his joy in the victories you give!”
Next came the pledges of allegiance from the dowager queen and HRH Prince Stephen. They knelt and swore their loyalty to King Nathaniel II.
One by one, the prime minister, the leaders of the House of Senators and House of Commons pledged their loyalty to the king, followed by other members of the royal family and the leaders of Brighton’s noble houses, then by the governor and leaders of Hessenberg.
When the final scripture was read and the closing prayer uttered, the abbey erupted with a fanfare of trumpets and a shout. “Here we have Nathaniel II, king of Brighton Kingdom!”
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The Hallelujah Chorus exploded in the abbey. In Susanna. Glorious!
From in the back, the sanctuary’s gilded doors swung open, flooding the nave with light. The archbishop led King Nathaniel, his mum, and his brother through the cheering and shouting down the long aisle and into the waiting day.
“God save King Nathaniel and all his descendants.”
Susanna mentally and emotionally clung to every moment, savoring every detail, scribbling, painting, breathing in the textures, sights, and sounds.
She whirled around to Avery. “Are you taking pictures?”
She flung her arm around Susanna’s shoulders and turned her phone camera on the two of them. “We’re at Nate’s coronation. Woo-hoo!”
See, Avery was a low moon on a steaming Georgia night. She just existed in every moment, free from constraint.
The guests made their way out of the abbey, laughing and chatting, making celebration plans for the rest of the day.
Susanna had hoped Nate would give her a visual as he left, but he remained focused, looking ahead.
All for the best. Really. She had to reckon with truth. There was nowhere to go from here but sightseeing with Avery and then home.
She’d also learned of another coronation schedule color code today—thanks to Rollins. Purple, to which she was not invited. A private luncheon followed by an evening performance by the Brighton Royal Symphony.
Susanna wiped away a small kiss of disappointment. It was fine. She and Avery had gobs of plans. A tour of Cathedral City and at least three of the green-labeled coronation street parties with food and live bands, which looked amazing.
One featured a singer Avery adored. Christina Jensen.
Down the aisle, Susanna and Avery finally pushed into the crisp Brighton sunshine. Prince Colin shoved away from the abbey wall where he’d been waiting. His smile flashed the moment he saw Avery.
“You free? I thought I might tour you ’round Brighton. If your sister doesn’t mind.”
“She doesn’t.” Avery whirled to Susanna, her heart fluttering in her eyes. “Do you?”
“No, no, of course not.” The company of a handsome young man trumped the plans of a sister every time. At least this time. Colin watched Avery like a very thirsty man. “Take care of her, please. She’s my daddy’s baby.” Susanna tried to give him the parental eye.
“Yes, ma’am. On my honor.” He blushed a bit, then jerked a crossing motion over his heart. And off they went, planning, first driving Avery to Parrsons to change her clothes, then to meet Colin’s mates for tea.
Perhaps it was Avery who came to Brighton to be with a prince. Not Susanna. Watching her sister go, her auburn tresses catching the sun, Susanna wanted the world for her. A prince if God willed it. But she still wanted Nathaniel for herself.
Avery paused at the bottom of the steps and looked back. She smiled and waved, but a subtle concern marked her expression. You okay?
I’m fine. Susanna shooed her on with a flick of her hands.
The abbey steps were empty now of all but a few stragglers. With an exhale, Susanna realized she was starving.
Perhaps she could raid Parrsons’ kitchen. The staff had the morning off to enjoy the coronation, but she’d heard finger food was being prepared. She relished the idea of being alone at Parrsons to think and catalog her memories. Maybe she’d go exploring, try to find what existed behind the garden wall besides the solo tree.
“Miss Truitt?” A young man appeared off her right shoulder with a bow, offering her a sealed envelope. “From His Majesty.”
“His Majesty? Nathaniel?”
“Yes, ma’am, His Majesty King Nathaniel.”
The envelope burned in her hand and Susanna ached to open it, but she waited until her car arrived and was maneuvered through pockets of celebration before gently tearing away the flap. If she was going to cry or be disappointed further, she wanted to be hidden behind smoke-tinted windows.
Her fingers trembled as she read a brief handwritten note.
Nine o’clock tonight. Be ready.
She smiled, slid against the leather seats, and pressed Nate’s note to her heart.
TWENTY
Parrsons House sat still and quiet under a clear, very cold full moon. A fresh snow fell while she shopped then napped in the afternoon, the wind turning delicate snow hills into soft powder mountains.
Peeking out of her room, Susanna worked the buttons on her new red wool coat and scanned the hallway. The coast was clear. No Lady Margaret. She’d returned from lunch with Lord Stan-the-man, grousing how they’d not been invited to the luncheon, parliamentary reception, or symphony.
If she caught Susanna sneaking out, Lady M. might demand to know where she was going, and Susanna failed lying in kindergarten. It wasn’t even close to one of her superpowers.
She’d crack. Confess. Spill all. Meeting Nate.
Susanna half suspected the woman would find a way to blame her for being excluded from whatever royal events took place this afternoon. That’s what bitter people did. Pointed the finger and blamed others. Obfuscation was a way of hiding from their own shortcomings and wounds.
Closing the suite door behind her with one last scout for Lady M., Susanna tiptoed down the hall under the regal gold light of the wall sconces.
Avery had called earlier, waking Susanna from her nap. Thank goodness. She’d not set her phone alarm and slept into her getting-ready time. Nate would be here in a few minutes.
Anyway, because of the snow, Colin had taken Avery to his family’s home for dinner. He put his mum, Princess Louisa, on the phone to assure Susanna that her little sister was in safe hands. There was music and laughter behind her voice.
Susanna imagined that God himself took time to make this a special week for Avery. God was like that, wasn’t he? Dreaming big dreams for those he loved.
But what did he dream for Susanna? And did it have anything to do with why she was sneaking down the stairs to meet Nate?
Susanna gripped the banister still entwined with Christmas trimmings—fragrant pine garlands and red bows. She figured she would wait for Nate in the foyer or parlor, watching out the window.
When she descended the last step, she spotted a note on the mahogany table.
Susanna, His Highness is delayed thirty minutes. He sends his apologies.
Oh, okay. Well, then … She glanced around, tucking the note in her coat pocket, hoping Lady M. hadn’t already spotted this gem.
Digging her hands into the silky pockets of her coat, Susanna roamed from the foyer to the dining room, catching the fragrance of steeping tea and cinnamon swirling from the kitchen.
Her stomach rumbled. She followed the sound of voices and clattering of pots.
“Evening, miss.” Rollins slipped from the stool where he sat, removing the napkin from his shirt collar. “Would you care for dinner?”
The cook and maids paused in their work, eyes on her, waiting for her answer. Rumbling stomach aside, she couldn’t eat with people watching her, waiting on her. She was the waitress, the architect serving a client.
“No, no, please … I’m fine. I heard voices?”
Rollins exhaled, returning to his stool. The others went back to their work. “We’re just back from a celebration in the village. Agatha was telling us about the latest reality show on the telly. Are you sure you won’t have a bit to eat, ma’am?”
“The muffins do smell good.”
The cook came alive, snatching up the muffin tin, cutting through the ancient redbrick kitchen toward Susanna, passing what appeared to be the original wood-burning oven that now housed high-end stainless steel.
“Here you go, miss.” She curtsied, offering the tin along with a plate. “Rollins speaks well of you.”
“Rollins has been very kind to my sister and me.” She smiled at the blushing butler, wrapping up a muffin in a napkin. “These smell delicious.”
“I’m Agatha.”
“Agatha, nice to meet you.” She motioned to
the door. “I wanted to explore. Would it be all right?”
“Certainly, ma’am.” Rollins opened the door for her, smiling, his expression tender.
Down the hall, Susanna bit into the warm, sweet, cinnamon-laced muffin and peeked into the laundry room, then the library.
Parrsons House was a maze of nooks and pinwheel passageways. She found a small corridor, entered it, and came out on the other side, facing the king’s cipher on the doorpost: L V R.
Rollins expressly warned her this area was private. But what was down the hall? Susanna suspected the way to the walled garden.
Turn around. Respect the rules. But just as she turned, a cold breeze tunneled through and she noticed a beam of light where a door stood ajar.
She shoved the last of the muffin in her mouth and crept along the stone passage. She fastened her coat’s top button and toed open the door, shushing the hinges when they creaked.
The garden. The secret garden.
Ducking through the door, Susanna inhaled the view. Hauntingly beautiful under the round white moon, the snow-covered, barren landscape possessed her heart. Like all of Brighton, she felt as if she’d been here before. An icy blast dropped over the wall and moaned through the snow-laden tree limbs, shaking snow to the ground.
