Chapter Thirty-Nine May
Chapter Thirty-Nine
May
Once upon a time, May would have been thrilled at a private summons to Buckingham Palace.
Now she just viewed it with a sinking sense of dread.
She was so sick of acting like a melancholy national mascot, wrapping herself in funereal black crêpe, only invited to parties as an object of maudlin curiosity.
Queen Victoria would probably want to talk about Eddy, and May would have no choice but to nod along as if she had, in fact, been in love with him.
As if she didn’t love his brother, who was very much alive.
When she reached the palace, May followed a footman into a sitting room. He offered her a cup of tea, which she accepted, mainly for the simple joy of holding the mug. It was so beautiful and delicate, painted with snowdrops and winter thistles.
What a pleasure it would be to have beautiful things like this. To offer your guests snowdrop mugs in the winter and bright floral ones in the summer.
“Hello, May.”
The queen glided into the room, wearing her signature black gown and a black lace coif. May hurried to sink into a curtsy.
Victoria sat, gesturing for May to take the seat opposite her. “I would ask how you are doing, but I’m sure the answer is not well.”
May bowed her head in dutiful agreement. “It has been a tragic time indeed.”
“We are all deeply aggrieved.” The queen perched on the edge of her sofa, straight-backed and alert. “However, I did not ask you here to talk about Eddy. We are here to discuss your future.”
“My future?” May repeated. No one had spoken of her future since Eddy died, as if she had been buried alive right alongside him.
There was a pause as the queen considered her next words. “I see that beneath your placid surface, May, you are a fighter. As I have been my whole life. A difficult childhood will do that to you,” she added under her breath.
May suspected, then, that the queen knew about Francis. Perhaps she didn’t know the extent of it, but she sensed his true nature.
“I aspire to be as strong as Your Majesty,” she replied softly.
The queen nodded, and it seemed to May that a moment of kinship passed between them—across the generations, bridging rank and wealth and love and loss. They both knew what it was to be a woman with her own mind, in a world shaped by men.
Even a queen had to fight for what was hers.
“There has been too much upheaval of late,” Victoria mused aloud.
“Eddy’s death has shaken the nation to the core.
To lose a young man who would have been king, uprooting the line of succession…
Our role as the royal family is to maintain stability, to be steady and immutable even when the world changes around us.
Now that Eddy is gone, we cannot afford any more disruption. ”
“Of course,” May replied, though she didn’t quite see what this had to do with her.
A knock sounded at the door, and satisfaction settled over Victoria’s features. “Oh, good. He’s right on time.”
May turned to look, and her heart skipped a beat. Standing in the doorway was George.
“Georgie, dear. Come join us,” the queen requested.
May tried to catch his gaze, but George was deliberately looking anywhere but at her as he settled into a nearby armchair. He didn’t reach for a tea mug, just leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest.
“I shall, as Lord Salisbury would say, get to the point,” Victoria declared. “You two now have my permission to court.”
May’s heart soared in delight—but before she could say anything, George let out a strangled cry of protest.
“Grannie, you can’t mean that. It would be disrespectful to Eddy.”
“On the contrary, it would be disrespectful not to! She didn’t marry him, after all,” the queen pointed out, with brutal practicality. She frowned at her grandson. “I thought you’d be thrilled, given that you asked to court May first.”
“You asked to court me?” May blurted out, eyes on George. He still didn’t acknowledge her.
“Yes, back at Osborne, the day before you got engaged to Eddy. George came to me and asked for my permission to court you. I would have granted his request, except that Eddy declared the very next morning that he would marry you or no one else.” Victoria shrugged.
“Naturally, since Eddy was the older brother, his desires came first. I told George that he had to step aside. He was very dutiful, of course, and obeyed me.”
Eddy’s desires came first—this was said so matter-of-factly that May winced. She tried again to meet George’s gaze, but he was staring down at his shoes, jaw clenched.
George had wanted to court her. If only he’d asked his grandmother’s permission a day earlier. If May had known, she would never have gotten engaged to Eddy.
They could have all been spared so much hurt: her, Eddy. Hélène.
“May, your engagement to Eddy, short as it was, introduced you to the nation,” the queen went on briskly.
“People already think of you as a future queen. It’s quite a touching story: you and George, sharing your mutual grief at Eddy’s death, slowly realizing that you care for each other. The nation will love it.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t,” George said flatly. “I regret to say that I no longer feel about May as I once did.”
It stung, hearing that.
The queen sniffed. “I don’t see why. Really, Georgie, you and May are far better suited than she ever was with Eddy. And if I’m being honest, she’s better for you than Missy—”
“What happened to Missy is May’s fault!”
There was utter silence, broken only by the sound of Victoria tapping her spoon against her teacup. May knew she had mere seconds before the queen decided her fate.
She sensed that a lie, however clever, would hurt her cause.
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” May said quickly, turning to the queen.
“Missy had once told me about Prince Ferdinand—that he was flirtatious with her. She giggled, and seemed quite fond of his attention.” May hung her head in shame.
“I mentioned this to Her Royal Highness the Queen of Prussia, and I fear that she may have related it to Ferdinand, who acted on it.”
George finally looked up, his blue eyes bright, but he said nothing.
The queen sighed. “So, you relayed a bit of gossip to my daughter Vicky.”
“Yes,” May murmured. “Again, I am sorry.”
“My dear, I appreciate the apology, but Missy’s marriage is hardly your fault.
Did you make her walk in the gardens with Ferdinand?
Did you insist she linger there, kissing him for so long that they were discovered?
I’m afraid Missy has only herself to blame for this turn of events,” the queen said crisply.
“Though, May, I will expect you to exercise more discretion in the future. A future queen does not engage in idle gossip, especially not about a family member.”
May nodded, her heart pounding. “Of course, Your Majesty.”
“What about Alix?” George demanded, looking from May to his grandmother.
“What about her, George?” the queen asked, with mounting irritation. “Are you saying that you would rather marry her? She did just break things off with that sweet Maximilian of Baden, but still…”
“No, I’m talking about how May kept Alix from marrying Eddy!” George blustered. “May has been cruel, and heartless, and—”
“Alix never wanted to marry Eddy! Quit spouting nonsense, George,” the queen snapped. “You are going to marry May. That is my final decision.”
“But I do not love her!”
Victoria set down her teacup with a loud clatter. May flinched.
“George, you are a future king now! You are no longer the second brother who gets to do as he wishes! You have a responsibility toward this family and this nation, and I command you, as my heir, to fulfill both!”
There was another long silence. May waited for George to deliver the killing blow, to tell the queen that May had blackmailed Hélène.
But he just stood, his expression blank, and bowed at the waist. “Very well, Your Majesty. I will do as you command.”
The queen sighed. Morning light streamed in through the windows, illuminating her face. For the first time May could remember, Victoria looked like an old woman, rather than the ageless queen who had led this nation for over half a century.
She turned to May. “You have said nothing, my dear. Are you opposed to this, as well?”
“Oh, no—I mean, I would be honored to marry George.” May looked at him, willing him to meet her gaze, but he was still staring pointedly away.
“Not because you are a future king, George, but because I love you. My engagement to Eddy…Well, you know we never loved each other. It has been different with you, from the beginning.”
“It’s settled, then,” the queen declared, with quiet satisfaction.
“This will make the nation so happy. A joyful ending to a very tragic story. Now I think I shall leave you two.” The queen rose; May and George both bobbed to their feet, like marionettes tugged on a string, so they were not seated while Her Majesty stood.
“Georgie, dear, I’m sure May would appreciate a real proposal, not one from me,” Victoria added.
Then she swept into the hall, leaving them alone.
May would have been shocked at the lack of propriety if every fiber of her being hadn’t been focused on George. On his nearness, the rise and fall of his chest. She waited, her every nerve alight, for what he would say next.
“May, would you marry me?” he asked.
This was all wrong; George wasn’t looking at her, his gaze fixed on the wallpaper behind her, as if he were reciting a script.
“Yes,” May agreed, “but please, George, look at me? I want us to be happy—”
He gave a caustic laugh. “It has never mattered in this family whether I was happy. Her Majesty has commanded me to marry you, and if there’s one thing I always do, it’s my duty. That’s me, the reliable second son until the end.”
His voice was flinty and hard and unyielding. It hurt some quiet and vulnerable place deep within her, hearing him speak to her without the usual tenderness.
“George, I love you!” May wrung her hands fiercely. She was still wearing her engagement ring from Eddy; it dug angrily into her skin. “I love you, and while I regret the things I have done, I don’t regret a moment I’ve spent with you.”
“You can spare me whatever speech you’ve rehearsed,” he said wearily. “I’m sure it’s very pretty, but it’s wasted on me. I loved you so much once. Not anymore.”
“Please, I don’t—”
“You can stop, May. You’re going to get what you’ve always wanted; you’re going to be queen. Isn’t that enough?”
“But it isn’t what I want anymore! I want you!”
May couldn’t believe she was here. That after all she’d done, she would somehow get everything she’d wanted—George, and the Crown.
Except that she didn’t actually have George. Not in the way that mattered.
She had his hand, but not his heart. And it was his heart she wanted: that sweet, thoughtful, wondrous heart, which had loved her for so long, without reservations and without constraint.
And she had managed to throw that love away. She would have a loveless marriage after all, just like her parents.
As she watched the man she loved walk away from her, May realized, for the first time in her life, what it felt to be truly, achingly alone.