Chapter Five May
Chapter Five
May
“Lord Jesus Christ, all of creation is filled with the light of your grace.” The archbishop held out his hands, causing the bell-shaped sleeves of his robe to flutter. “Dispel the darkness of our hearts, and forgive our sins and selfishness.”
“Lord, forgive us.” May recited the words along with the rest of the congregation, though she wasn’t sure she agreed. Lately, she’d come to think that selfishness was an asset.
Sunshine filtered through the stained-glass windows behind the altar, making the waters of the baptismal font seem to glow with color.
They were in the Chapel Royal at St. James’s Palace, a gem of a space with its coffered ceiling, its massive tapestries and gold cornices.
Half a century earlier, Queen Victoria had wed Prince Albert here.
This was where May would marry Eddy someday, if her plans succeeded.
Today the royal family was gathered for a baptism, not a wedding. Princess Louise—the older of Eddy and George’s two sisters—stood next to her husband, the Duke of Fife, holding a bundle of lace and white silk.
“Your Grace, Your Royal Highness,” the archbishop called out, gesturing to the parents. “Please present the candidate for baptism.”
The couple stepped forward, exchanging the same adoring smiles that May had seen at their wedding.
So much had happened to her since then. She’d set her sights on Prince Eddy, fallen for his brother George, realized that those feelings for George were hopeless.
And now here she was, right back where she’d started.
Living under her parents’ roof and desperate to get out.
May stole a glance across the chapel. Apparently, Uncle Alfred—Queen Victoria’s second son—was here, along with his wife, Marie, and their two daughters, Missy and Victoria Melita, known in the family as Ducky.
May craned her neck, but she couldn’t see much of Missy except a few dark curls.
She was hidden behind her taller, ganglier sister.
May and her mother would have gotten better seats if they’d arrived on time, but of course, Mary Adelaide had been running late.
If only May could have come alone. Her mother was so gauche and loud, always singing the hymns woefully off-key.
But May needed a chaperone, and Mary Adelaide, at least, wasn’t cruel.
May tugged her sleeve farther down her arm, hiding the spot where her father had grabbed her the other day.
A nasty little bruise was blossoming there.
Francis had always been vicious with his words, but now his anger had grown physical: he might hold her wrist harder than was necessary, or press fingers sharply into her flesh.
He hadn’t actually hit her yet, but May figured it was only a matter of time.
She had to get out of his house, and fast.
At the baptismal font, the godparents—the Prince and Princess of Wales and the queen herself—stepped forward.
Queen Victoria held out her hands, and Louise obediently passed the baby girl to her great-grandmother.
In her beribboned white gown frothing with lace, a cap tied over her head, the infant looked more like a parcel than a person.
Lucky girl, getting the queen herself for a godmother.
The archbishop reached for a ceremonial silver ladle. “I baptize you, Alexandra, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”
The girl had been named after her grandmother, Alexandra, the Princess of Wales. May couldn’t help thinking that Louise had made a mistake, not calling the baby Victoria.
Though technically speaking, May’s parents had named her Victoria—she was Victoria Mary, even if she’d always gone by May. And look what good it had done her.
Queen Victoria held the infant with a steady grip as the archbishop drizzled water atop the baby’s head. Alexandra blinked in wide-eyed shock, then screwed up her little face and screamed.
The archbishop hurriedly made the sign of the cross over her and bowed to the queen.
Victoria passed the baby back to Louise, but little Alexandra just howled all the louder.
May saw a few family members exchanging judgmental glances.
That girl is headstrong, they would whisper later; like her mother, she’ll be trouble.
Whereas if a baby boy had screamed like that, they would have laughed and complimented his healthy set of lungs.
Even as newborns, girls should know how to moderate their voices.
Once the service had ended, everyone streamed outside, flocking around the Wales family.
Alexandra looked as quietly beautiful as ever; Bertie grinned proudly next to her, the buttons of his waistcoat straining against his expanding girth.
Last winter, he’d actually stopped bothering to fasten the final button.
If anyone else had done so, it would have been an embarrassment, but instead the men of London had all followed Bertie’s lead.
Now tailors were cutting waistcoats to accommodate that final, unhooked button.
“Look, it’s Helena!” Mary Adelaide waved to someone. “Should we go say hello?”
“I was hoping to greet the Coburg sisters,” May replied. She had a sudden, intense urge to speak with Missy herself. Perhaps she would see why Missy had succeeded where she had failed, and captured George’s interest.
Not that May cared anymore. Her feelings for George had been extinguished, as firmly and definitively as snuffing a candle. She’d hardly even seen him in the past few months; soon after Sophie and Tino’s wedding he had left on another naval tour.
When she reached the sisters, May smiled through the sour feeling in her chest. Missy was so unfairly pretty, her blue eyes darting around the gathering with avid curiosity.
At least May had on a nice dress today: an old one of Agnes’s, made of lilac silk with graduated tucks that emphasized her narrow waist.
“Welcome back to England,” she said in greeting. “How was your journey?”
“Loud,” Missy said cheerfully, nudging her sister’s shoulder. “Mama and Ducky fought the whole time.”
May glanced at Ducky for an explanation, startled by such bluntness, but Ducky just crossed her arms and glared out the garden gates.
“What are your plans while in London?” May asked after a beat. “Aside from next week’s anniversary party, of course.”
“I shall go riding,” Missy said eagerly. “There’s no way Mama can forbid it, not after I spent the winter riding in St. Petersburg with Ducky and Kiril. We got lost in the snow once, and had to—”
“Come now, Missy. May has no desire to hear about our misadventures,” Ducky cut in, too quickly. She turned back to May. “I’m sure we’ll view some picture galleries while here. Do you have any recommendations?”
“The Earl of Stafford has a lovely collection; he opens his home to friends on Thursday afternoons. How long will you be in town?” May asked.
Missy grinned mischievously. “That depends on Ducky.”
Ducky ignored the statement, though something flashed behind her eyes. “A few weeks, most likely.”
There was a secret here; May could sense it. Before she could ask more, the two sisters looked at something over May’s shoulder, then swept into curtsies.
May curtsied on instinct. She stayed low, her knees bent, until she was staring at the hem of a long black gown.
“Good morning, Missy, Ducky.” The queen paused for a fraction of an instant before adding, “And May.”
The Coburg girls dutifully replied with “Hello, Grandmother.” May waited until they were finished before daring her own greeting. “Good morning, Your Majesty. Congratulations on your new goddaughter.” As if Queen Victoria didn’t have two dozen godchildren already. “It was a lovely service.”
“I’m afraid little Alexandra disagreed. She certainly made her displeasure known.
” Victoria chuckled indulgently. At moments like this, in her plain black gown and bonnet, she resembled a grandmother more than a queen.
But May knew it would be a grave mistake to forget, even for a moment, whom she was speaking with.
Which was why she decided to risk saying, “A healthy baby is such a blessing. It makes one long for a child of one’s own.”
Missy and Ducky were staring at her with confusion, or perhaps alarm, but May didn’t care. She had to do something to make Victoria pay attention to her. And waxing eloquent about motherhood seemed a safe bet with a woman who’d done it nine times.
Not that May actually meant what she’d said. She’d never played with baby dolls; she felt no emotional yearning to become a mother. But, of course, a baby was highly useful for one’s own security.
A man could get rid of a wife far too easily, by divorcing her, or simply shuffling her off to be “cured” at an asylum, like Lord Mordaunt had recently done to his wife. If you were the mother of an heir, you were a bit safer.
The queen looked at May thoughtfully. “May, Bertie was just telling me about how you and Eddy went into one of those elevator contraptions. Lord Salisbury keeps urging me to install one at Buckingham Palace. He says I’ll like the ease of moving from floor to floor without having to walk.
Or be carried,” Victoria added ruefully.
“What do you think? Should I add an elevator?”
May nodded. This was a test, and she hoped she was giving the right answer. “I believe so, Your Majesty.”
“Why?”
“Aside from the financial cost, I do not see any drawbacks. Your Majesty is quite implacable; I doubt that an elevator would frighten you. And there are a number of benefits to installing an elevator now. If it is true that this technology will eventually be in all buildings, then the palace should be one of the first to include one. The duty of the Crown is to set an example that the rest of society will follow.”
The queen looked at May as if seeing her for the first time. “I quite agree.”
For a fleeting instant May thought she had done the impossible, and made a lasting impression on Victoria—but then Victoria dismissed her, turning to the Coburg girls.
“Ducky, would you walk with me?”
Though it was phrased as a question, the words were unmistakably a command. Ducky nodded, letting her grandmother steer her aside.
Directly to Prince Eddy.
May thought of what Missy had said mere minutes ago, when asked how long the sisters would be in town. That depends on Ducky.
She tried to sound nonchalant as she asked Missy, “I take it Her Majesty is matchmaking?”
“I know! Poor Ducky,” Missy agreed.
“Poor Ducky?” May couldn’t help it; the words shot out of her like gunfire.
Missy didn’t seem to register the sharpness of May’s tone. “It would be awful, being told you must marry someone you don’t love. Just look how miserable they both are.”
Neither young woman made a pretense of subtlety. They both stared at Eddy and Ducky, who were now talking in a forced, polite way.
“He clearly has feelings for someone else,” Missy went on. “Do you think it’s Alix? I always assumed he would marry her.”
“I heard that they were never truly engaged. Or if they were, it didn’t work out.” May’s voice came out admirably calm, given that she wanted to shout in frustration.
What a fool she’d been, thinking that it was enough to eliminate Alix and Hélène. She should have known that another contender would rise up, another match in the endless line of princesses who could be queen.
Missy shrugged. “Perhaps I’m overreacting. It’s just that Eddy doesn’t seem…” She struggled for the right word, then settled on, “Faithful. Not like George.”
As she watched Missy glance fondly at George, May felt anger bubbling up within her.
It was just so unfair. Missy and Ducky would have a perfect life handed to them, without any effort on their part!
One of them was marrying a future king, the other marrying for something as frivolous as love.
A pair of sisters marrying a pair of brothers?
It was like something from a fairy tale.
May wasn’t like them, some enchanted princess out of a story. She was less wealthy, less well connected, less everything than Missy and Ducky.
But she was here. And she wanted to marry Eddy, more than Ducky seemed to.
Fine, then. She would have to get rid of Ducky, the same way she’d gotten rid of Alix and Hélène. No matter what it took, May would find a way.
She had to keep eliminating her competition, one by one, until she was the last princess standing in this endless, relentless quest to become queen.