CHAPTER ELEVEN #2
Agnes picked up a soft green moiré from a stack of fabrics and drummed her fingers over it.
“How are you supposed to attract the prince’s interest if you only ever run into him at crowded receptions?
Becoming friends with Maud gives you more opportunities to see His Royal Highness.
The more time you spend near him, the better chance you have of convincing him that you are the right choice. ”
There was an indisputable logic to this. And yet…
“Maud and I have never been close. Trust me, I’ve tried.
” May had always assumed that Maud and her sister Louise had inherited their parents’ snobbery.
Uncle Bertie certainly made no secret of his feelings toward the Tecks; he tolerated them with weary reluctance, the way you might resign yourself to a stain in the wooden floorboards that you could never remove.
“Then try again,” Agnes commanded. “I suspect that Maud has changed since you were children. No one ever pays her much mind, do they? She seems lonely, constantly overshadowed by her siblings.”
It was a bit unsettling how easily Agnes had taken the measure of Maud. The youngest of the Wales children, two years younger than May, Maud had always been ignored in favor of her brothers—the ones who mattered, the heir and the spare—and her vivacious, headstrong older sister.
“You really think it might go differently this time?” May mused aloud.
“Of course. Last time you tried to befriend Maud, you didn’t have me.”
May couldn’t help chuckling at the sheer audacity of it. Then her laughter died down, replaced by a puzzled confusion. “Agnes. Why are you helping me?”
“I like a challenge.” Agnes smiled, a bit naughtily. “And of course, I wouldn’t mind being friends with the future Queen of England. If you marry Prince Eddy, you can help me track down one of these bankrupt dukes that my mother has her heart set on.”
SEVERAL WEEKS LATER, THE ENDICOTTS’ carriage pulled up outside the Wolvertons’ home in Mayfair.
The fence surrounding the property seemed unusually frightening, as if the iron spikes were sharper than normal, turning the house into a fortress.
And here was May, bringing an interloper inside like the Trojan horse.
She glanced over as they headed up the front steps. Reading the concern in May’s eyes, Agnes slowed. “Should I remove my muff?” She gestured with her hands, which were tucked into a roll of fluffy white fur. “I know you said no sables, but you didn’t say anything about lynx.”
“No—it’s fine,” May assured her.
She and Agnes had met up a few times since their excursion to Linton they had reviewed this countless times. What was she thinking?
“Mr. Endicott.” Lady Wolverton repeated the name as if it were in a foreign language.
More loudly, for the benefit of the room, she added, “I’ve always thought how trying it must be to grow up in America: all of you clumped together like chickens in a coop, without titles or rank.
How on earth do you know which young men to address and which to avoid? ”
“We don’t, of course.”
May closed her eyes. Agnes’s words sounded impertinent, even dangerous.
“We rely on our mamas to tell us,” Agnes went on sweetly, “as proper young women should.”
To May’s vast relief, Lady Wolverton took Agnes’s statement at face value, unable to even dream that someone might address her with a hint of sarcasm. Only May seemed to have heard the amusement in her friend’s voice.
“Yes, a proper young woman should obey her mother in all things. A sentiment that my own daughters have, sadly, failed to internalize,” Lady Wolverton said slowly. “Welcome to London, Miss Endicott.”
It was a far more ringing endorsement than May had expected.
Recognizing the dismissal, May led Agnes away, and conversation hummed through the room once more. May couldn’t be certain, but she heard snatches of words like fifty thousand a year and stands to inherit everything. If Agnes heard it, too, she revealed nothing.
Then May glanced up and realized, surprised, that Princess Maud was here.
She was seated at the piano, her fingers drifting over the keyboard as she played a gentle background piece—Beethoven, maybe?
Agnes wandered closer. May reached out to pluck at her sleeve, but her friend ignored the warning. She stood there, waiting patiently, until Maud’s hands finally came to a rest.
“That was lovely, Your Royal Highness.” Agnes sank into her lowest curtsy, tipping her head forward so that her twist of chestnut hair was visible.
“Thank you.” Maud paused, and May hurried to step in and make a proper introduction. She expected the princess to turn aside once she realized she was speaking to an American commoner, but Maud studied Agnes with curiosity. “Do you play?”
“Not so well as you! Which has always been a disappointment, as I love listening to music. Your rendition of Schubert was so moving.”
So it hadn’t been Beethoven after all. May didn’t play the piano very often anymore; she only dared practice when her father was out of the house.
“Have you heard his duets? They are even more powerful than the Andante.” Maud scooted over on the bench. “We could attempt one now, if you like.”
Agnes smiled dazzlingly. “I fear that Schubert is far beyond my abilities. Perhaps Her Serene Highness might play with you?”
May tried to hide her frustration at Agnes’s interference. She looked at Maud with a smile that probably came out like a grimace.
“Of course,” Maud agreed, seeming bemused.
“Thank you.” May sat next to her on the bench, tucking her skirts about her legs. A few other guests glanced over, then quickly lost interest when they saw that it was just May and Maud—the two overlooked, unremarkable princesses.
Maud flipped through the music atop the piano. “What about this one?”
May quickly scanned the page. Neither part looked easy, semiquavers dancing wildly up and down across the bars. Was Maud trying to intimidate her?
“I’ll take the top part,” she decided, choosing the slightly less terrifying of the two.
Maud held her hands over the keys. May drew off her gloves and set them carefully atop the piano next to Maud’s—at least they were new ones, she noted with relief.
The piece began with a disingenuous calm, as Schubert was wont to do, but it escalated quickly. There were several moments when May’s hands danced over Maud’s, but after a minute she no longer noticed; the music required every ounce of her concentration.
May was aware that she lacked the innate talent of a truly great musician.
But she’d always appreciated the piano for rewarding diligence: if you kept at it with enough stubbornness, you could muscle your way into a level of competency.
As a child, she used to chain herself to the bench for hours, practicing various pieces over and over until she could perform them with her eyes closed.
She might as well be good at something ornamental, she had thought, since she wasn’t destined to be a great beauty.
When the duet drew to a close, she and Maud struck their final chord at exactly the same moment. May looked up, meeting Maud’s gaze, and was surprised to see a smile there.
Perhaps Agnes was right; perhaps Maud wasn’t as pretentious as May had assumed. It was unnerving, realizing that she had likely misjudged her cousin the way everyone was always misjudging her.
But how was anyone supposed to know the truth about another person when society forbade you from revealing your true self?
When all you spoke about was insignificant gossip and trivial details?
May realized with a shock that she knew more about Agnes after a matter of weeks than she knew about most people in her life—because Agnes had peeled back the veneer of polite conversation and spoken frankly.
“I enjoyed that,” Maud ventured.
May smiled. “We should do it again, though I would prefer to practice before performing in public once more.”
For a moment she worried she’d overstepped, but Maud nodded in agreement. “Why don’t you come over next week? Mama receives on Tuesdays at three.”
An invitation to Marlborough House, after just a single duet at the piano?
If she had known it would be this easy, May would have attempted it long ago.