by Rachel Hauck
“You’ve never said if you agree.”
“I’m quite sure I don’t.” So, his prime minster did not agree with him. “It could leave the monarchy vulnerable.”
“Which is why we’ve written in conditions and stipulations,” Nathaniel said.
“Then let the order go to the vote,” Henry said. “Are you ready to accept whatever comes?”
“I am. I’ve not spoken to Susanna since she left. I’ve no guarantee that if the law is changed she’d even speak to me, let alone marry me. She told me straight to my face she didn’t want to marry me. I’m not an easy guy for a girl to commit to. I come with a kingdom on my shoulders.”
“If she loves you—”
“She never said she loved me either.”
“And you’re still going through with this?”
“Yes.” It’d become his conviction to do so.
“Love is not for the weary or faint of heart, is it?”
“Henry, do you love my mother?” Nathaniel asked, quick, without much thought.
“Excuse me, Your Majesty?” He reached for his bourbon glass on the service tray, then thought better of it and set it down.
“Do you love my mother? Simple question.”
“Rather personal and straightforward as well.” Henry stared at Nathaniel then away, glancing about the debate box, walking around the chairs, trying to choose on which to sit.
“Do you?”
“Yes. For a long time now.”
“You were her first love? Before my father?” Nathaniel relaxed a bit, dipped his hands into his pockets, and leaned against the mahogany wall.
“She told you, then?”
“Not directly. I put the pieces together.”
“We met after university. Your mum, quite a rebel in her day. Shunning the social season to work at a rug factory, refusing to debut. I admired her, followed her to one of her poetry readings. We read a lot of poetry in the seventies. I fell in love. It took her a few months, but she … well, we planned to marry. But her parents had other plans. A prince, not a blue-collar lad with solicitor aspirations.”
“You have my blessing, as her son and as your king, to pursue her.”
The prime minister of Brighton blushed. “Perhaps, when my term is up.”
“Why wait?” Nathaniel asked. “If you still love her after all these years, why must you wait? It’s a gift. Take it.”
“I do believe you’re preaching to yourself a good deal more than me, Nathaniel,” Henry said.
He laughed, his nerves rising again, and reached into his pocket for his handkerchief, patting the perspiration from his forehead. “How do you think Hessenberg will respond to the order?”
“Their representatives will hear your argument and the order, then vote accordingly. No need to try to predict their response.”
Nathaniel glanced at his phone. “Best get to the robe room.”
Henry nodded. “See you in the chamber.”
Down the hall, Nathaniel peeked into the murmur of the chamber over the mezzanine banister. The members were arriving, taking their seats.
But where was Jon? He’d promised to be here at half past. He was late. The information he bore would uphold the first half of Nathaniel’s speech. Information Nathaniel had not even told Henry about.
Jon’s team of investigators had discovered a woman in Florida who appeared to be a true descendant of Prince Francis. His great-great-niece.
Though it seemed odd. A Hessen royal living in America unawares? But she was the great-granddaughter of Alice Edmunds.
In the robe room, Nathaniel found Jon waiting for him. He jumped to his feet when Nathaniel entered. “Regina Beswick. Or shall I say Princess Regina Beswick.” He passed Nathaniel the brown dossier, much thicker now with two months of reports and information.
“Beswick? Her name is Beswick?” He skimmed the last page of the dossier before handing it back to Jonathan. The robe-room steward seemed rather miffed over Jon’s interfering with his duties.
“Still investigating the details, but I’m pretty sure we have the princess.”
Nathaniel punched the air with his fist. “I knew an heir was out there.” He listened to Jon’s briefing as the steward aided Nathaniel into his robes and crown.
A bit of courage, a lot of prayers, and the heir to Hessenberg had been found. It was a good moment to be king. And a fine day to fight for the right to marry the woman he loved.
The spotlight over the podium beamed down on Nathaniel. His hands steadied as he surveyed the long, narrow room of posh leather, cherry wood, and Brighton-quarried stone.
“You all look as terrified as I feel,” he began, and the chamber filled with a tempered laugh. A feathery touch brushed over Nathaniel’s head. A sensation he’d experienced since childhood. One he believed to be the tip of God’s wing.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the chamber, members of the Senators House and the Commons House, thank you for this audience today.
“The Marriage Act of 1792 came about when royals ruled Europe. When our forefathers and mothers were united in marriage for the sake of power and possession.
“Your predecessors, along with mine, took matters in hand and instituted the Marriage Act when Princess Paulette of Lorraine nearly destroyed our military by helping her Uncle Louis fight Napoleon. Our Parliament, along with the Crown, decreed no royal could marry outside Brighton as long as the ruling royal, the archbishop, prime minister, and privy council did not object.
“So our way has been for over two hundred years.”
The chamber gave a united, quick “hurrah” as was their tradition when they agreed with a speaker.
“As it should be.” A lone but powerful voice pierced the “hurrah.”
Beading sweat popped out on Nathaniel’s brow. “Yet history has changed.” His voice held steady as he scanned the chamber for a visual barometer. “Europe’s royal houses have fallen. Republics and democracies have taken their place.
“But we hold to our constitutional-monarchical government as a way of checks and balances on the law of the land and our way of life.
“We work hand-in-hand, you and I, the Crown and the Parliament. We are partners. Servants of the people.
“But you, ladies and gentlemen, are free to choose your own life. Especially when it comes to love.
“I won’t stand here and tell you what a sad life I lead because I am king.”
Laughter rippled toward him.
“But perhaps I might gain your sympathies over the notion I am not free to marry whom I love. I’ve pledged my life and heart to Brighton Kingdom. I’ll serve her as she wills. But my good friends, I’m here today to ask for the Marriage Act to be amended.”
Several “boos” haunted the room.
Nathaniel gripped the side of the podium. Did he not expect opposition? “I’m asking for myself and for those who follow me. I submit to you Order of Council HRC 143 that the crown prince or princess may marry whom they love, domestic or foreign.
“Your monarchs will serve better when serving with one they love. I ask you, my countrymen, not to abolish the Marriage Act of 1792, but to amend it. Let’s write a new covenant of love. One where the good of Brighton and the Crown come together.”
Nathaniel raised his chin and regarded again the room. Were they with him? Smiling faces turned stony, and the buoyancy of having the king in the room sank.
To his right, a contingent of representatives shifted. Spoke low to one another.
“On a final note, I received a good word before coming into this hallowed chamber that an heir of Prince Francis has been discovered in the state of Florida.” The room rumbled. “My staff has worked tirelessly for the last few months, following every lead until they discovered the grand duke’s niece. We will contact her and inform her that a deserving nation awaits her destiny.” He paused, smiling. Hessenberg representatives were on their feet, fixed and focused. “I’m sure she’ll need our most ardent prayers.”
He th
anked them, bowed, and backed away from the speaker’s podium. His heart thundered as he exited the chamber. In silence.
He’d done what he came to do. And for the first time since he determined to propose this change, Parliament’s response did not matter.
He’d leave the matter to the God he trusted.
Jon fell in step with him as he headed for the robe room. “Well done, sir, well done.”
“We shall see.”
Then he heard it. The rumble, the shaking, the shouts and stomping feet. And an earth shattering, one-chorus, “Hurrah!”
There was a reason she had left the gardening to Leo. He knew what the blazes he was doing. She did not.
Campbell sat back on her heels, shoved her sun hat off of her damp forehead, and considered the mess she’d made with her spade. The spring forget-me-nots she’d planted in Leo’s honor were … well, forgettable.
She’d consulted the royal gardener, Sir Pine, who offered to travel out to Parrsons and care for the walled garden himself, but Campbell insisted she needed to attend to this task herself.
This was Leo’s garden, his private refuge, and she didn’t want to turn it over to a mere custodian. It needed care. Her care.
Besides, she needed a distraction. Especially today. Nathaniel presented his order to the parliament today. The first one in a hundred and two years. She was nervous for him.
Did she agree with his actions? Campbell wasn’t sure. The old law made her feel safe. Protected from foreign influence through marriage. Yet her mother’s heart wanted her son happy. She liked Susanna. Admired her. Given any other circumstances, she’d praise Nathaniel’s choice.
So perhaps she should let go of fear and distrust.
Rising off her knees, Campbell sat on the stone bench under the tree and slipped off her gloves and hat, cooling off in the spring breeze drifting down through the branches.
With the coronation over and the first anniversary of Leo’s death approaching, she felt restless. As if life were calling but she wasn’t sure to where or what.
“Taking a rest, I see?”
Campbell smiled at Henry. He was a welcome sight. “I can’t go on torturing these poor forget-me-nots.”
“Rollins said you were here.” Henry sat next to her on the stone bench and covered her hand with his. “You can be proud of your son. He did splendidly.”
Despite the strangeness of his intimate touch, she did not pull away.
“And?”
“The order passed.”
“Oh, Henry!” She tightened her grip around his hand. Joy! “Is he off then, to see her?”
“He received the news rather calmly. Looked to Jon and said, ‘See you at my office.’ So I have no idea of his plans. He claims she said she’d not marry him. Never said she loved him. But things are changing in Brighton, Campbell. It’s a new era, a new day.”
“It is at that, isn’t it?” Campbell watched a pair of robins bounce from limb to limb, twittering after one another. “She’ll be a grand queen, won’t she? If she accepts Nathaniel.”
“I think we have a fine queen.” Henry squeezed her hand. Did he mean to look at her so intently? She blushed under his stare. “But the American?”
“Susanna.”
“Yes, of course … Susanna will be a grand wife for our king, if as you say, she’ll have him. If he pursues her.”
“I’m not the queen anymore, Henry.”
“Yes, I know.” Henry’s eyes remained so intently on her. “We didn’t get our day when we were young, Campbell.”
“Henry …” She withdrew her hand, stood, and paced out of the shade into the sun. “Do you know anything about forget-me-nots?” She squinted up at the beaming light. “I believe there’s too much sun.”
“The only forget-me-nots I care about is that after thirty-five years I cannot forget you.” Henry reached for her and she felt weak. “Campbell Stratton, ma’am, what are you doing the rest of your life?”
She pressed her trembling hand over her quivering lips, her heart jumbling up her words, not resisting him when he tugged her back to the bench and curled his arms about her.
“Will you have me?”
“I–I don’t know.” She’d spent years burying her memories of her first love. Of giving her heart, her all, to Leo.
“I don’t know?” He chuckled low. “That’s fair enough for me.” He kissed her cheek and stood. “Campbell Stratton, what are you doing for dinner, then?”
“I’ve no specific plans.”
“Would you dine with me?”
“That would be lovely.”
He bowed and backed away. “I’ll come ’round at seven.”
She stood to watch him go in the shifting morning shade. Indeed things were changing in Brighton. Changing in her.
With another peek at the forget-me-nots, she dropped to her knees and began to work the soil, watering them with her own teardrops.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Sorry I’m late, Mama.” Susanna scooted into the Rib Shack, the heels of her pumps crunching sand from the parking lot against the kitchen floor. She stuffed her briefcase inside her locker and slipped off her suit jacket. “We had a client cancel, but we were able to squeeze in another one. I think this one’s going to hire us. Gage gets so mad when I offer my services pro bono, but I think that’s just the best way to build a client base.”
“Got a window full of tickets. Get the lead out.” Mama didn’t look up from her work at the lowboy prep station.
In the two-by-four kitchen bathroom, Susanna changed from one uniform to the next. Corporate world to service world. After a week of partnering with Gage, she was kind of falling into a groove. One she felt like she might be able to live with the rest of her life.
Okay, not for the rest of her life. For the next year. Just a year. Build her resume and then see. She’d begun to curb her appetite for long-term plans.
She’d promised herself, and Jesus, she’d commit to nothing and let him design the outcome of the garden of her life, determine the fruit of the largeness she still felt in her heart.
Reverend Smith called such a plan being “poor in spirit.” Being humble yet expectant of Jesus.
Susanna burst from the bathroom, leaving her work clothes swinging from a hanger, and took up Mama’s place at the window.
“It’s family barbecue night … let’s go, people.” Bossing the back of house took the edge off all the rebuttals she swallowed during the day. Oh, if Gage only knew how many times she wanted to object to his plans.
Dating would never work for them. Even if she were to ever have romantic feelings for him. Which she did not.
Susanna grabbed the tickets waiting in the window and went to work. “Catfish, I need two family pulled-pork-barbecue platters and one chicken. Let’s go, we’re backing up here. Daddy, are those fries hot? I don’t want cold fries going out my window.”
“Hotter than the sand in July, baby girl.” Daddy winked at her. “I’m sure going to miss you.”
She stared at him. “Miss me? Why? Where are you going? Catfish, we need a Caesar and a house. Daddy, are you finally taking Mama on that African safari she’s always talking about?” She took a plate from Catfish and added two biscuits. “Table nine, up. Let’s go, Bristol.”
“Good grief, girl, you think she’d go if I booked it? She still talks of Vermont as if it happened yesterday. That woman is a vacation camel.” Daddy swept his shoulder against his misty gray eyes.
“Daddy? What’s wrong?” She hurried around the lowboy for a good look-see. “Are you okay? It’s not your heart, is it?”
“I’m fine.” He tapped his chest. “My ticker’s right as rain. In fact, it’s downright happy.”
“Then what’s going on?” Susanna looked at Mama. Something was up because Mama wasn’t bossing Daddy and he wasn’t bossing back. “What are y’all not telling me?”
“Get to work, Susanna. I don’t know what that old man is going on about. Gib, how them biscuits coming? They w
on’t make themselves.”
“I’m on it, woman. Just leave me be. I can make these in my sleep.”
“Then get to napping.” Mama refused to look at Susanna.
“Mama?”
“Suz, if that window backs up, I’m going to let you deal with all the complaints.” She sorted paid tickets on a lowboy. “I’ll be in the office.”
Susanna had just caught up on the orders and restocked the salad bins when Bristol came around and announced she was taking over the window.
“You’re on break.”
“What break?” Susanna didn’t budge when Bristol tried to move her from her spot. “I got this, Bristol. Get back out front.”
“You’re on break.” Bristol hip butted Susanna and fired her clear to the edge of the lowboy. She packed a powerful punch for being nothing but skin and bones.
Susanna peered toward the office. “I’m on break?”
“I guess so.” Mama’s hand flew over the ten key, adding up tickets.
But what didn’t add up was being on break an hour after she’d punched in, having Mama say, “I guess so,” and the fact that the woman had yet to look her in the eye.
“Mama, what’s going on?”
“Suz, go on break. You bother me like a two-year-old asking why.”
