Chapter Sixteen May
Chapter Sixteen
May
That afternoon, after they had returned from the regatta—a regatta where Eddy had been conspicuously absent—a footman knocked at May’s bedchamber and asked if May would please join Her Majesty for tea.
May hurried after him, grateful that her white dress was still as spotless as when she had put it on that morning.
“You can wait for Her Majesty here,” the footman announced, leading her into Victoria’s second-floor sitting room.
May took a seat on a floral-printed sofa, then nervously stood again. What if Hélène had made good on her threats, and told the queen everything May had done? Surely she wouldn’t dare while May still had the power to ruin her?
In the corner sat Victoria’s writing desk, a half-finished letter on its surface.
Framed pictures hung on the butter-yellow walls.
A console table behind the sofa was covered in dozens of personal knickknacks.
May stepped closer to examine them. There were little statuettes and a miniature of Prince Albert, and was that a brass paperweight shaped like a baby’s foot?
“That was Alfred’s. I had a sculptor cast it on his first birthday.” Victoria’s voice cut into May’s thoughts.
“Oh! Your Majesty.” May sank into the lowest possible curtsy, embarrassed to have been caught snooping. She was as bad as Hélène.
“It’s quite all right, May. I must admit, I’m glad you gravitated toward the baby’s foot. When I brought Alexandra here twenty-five years ago, she just sat on the sofa and stared out the window. Didn’t pick up a single thing, and this room is full of them.” Victoria sniffed disapprovingly.
“I’m sorry,” May said again. Had she heard correctly? It sounded like Victoria was suggesting that she’d brought Alexandra to this very room before Bertie proposed—and that May might be in a similar position.
Maybe she wasn’t here to be reprimanded after all.
“A small amount of curiosity is an admirable quality.” Queen Victoria gestured toward the French doors that led to a balcony. “Please, do come outside.”
Striped curtains lifted in the breeze, revealing that a table had been set for tea, with solid-gold flatware and monogrammed napkins. May waited until the queen was seated before tentatively taking the other chair.
“Are you enjoying Cowes thus far?” Queen Victoria asked, immediately reaching for a scone and the clotted cream.
“Very much so, Your Majesty. What a joy it is, falling asleep to the scent of roses and magnolia, listening to the sounds of the ocean.”
“Osborne is at its best in the summer. The colors are so vibrant,” Victoria said, as if she didn’t live her own life wearing nothing but black. “You know, Albert and I built this house together. He called it our little Naples on the English Channel.”
May had been to Naples, and didn’t see the resemblance, though she wisely refrained from saying so.
“You and His Royal Highness built a beautiful home,” she replied instead.
“The children always loved it here,” Victoria mused. “I have such fond memories of watching George learning to ride on the lawn—a sweet little cream-colored pony that I gave him one summer. I wanted George to have something of his own, since Eddy always overshadows him.”
Victoria was watching May as she said this. Did she have a purpose in bringing up George, the brother whose heart May once thought she knew? Bewildered, May simply said, “How lovely.”
The queen’s eyes were still fixed on May, inquisitive and sharp as an owl’s. “George has always been the steadier of the two Wales brothers. Unlike flighty and impulsive Eddy. Which is why it came as such a surprise this morning, when Eddy asked to speak with me about his future.”
May knew she should say something, but all she could manage was “Oh?”
Victoria seemed to think this was sufficient, and continued.
“You have known Eddy his whole life, so you are aware how stubborn and willful he can be. It might not surprise you to learn that he recently asked my permission to marry a young woman—a foreign princess, as it happens. I granted it, to my own regret.” She meant Hélène, of course.
“I congratulate His Royal Highness,” May began, but Victoria waved away her words.
“That young woman was a complete disappointment. Promised to convert and then went back on her word. Eddy was devastated!” Victoria seemed surprisingly protective of her grandson.
“He persisted in thinking she might change her mind a second time, but I don’t share his confidence.
So I told him that he has two choices,” the queen said crisply.
“He can leave for an extended tour of the colonies, a grueling round-the-world trip through all our dominions overseas. To India, Burma, Australia, New Zealand, and Canada. It would be a tour full of public events, with little opportunity for adventure. No hunting tigers or climbing temples.”
May poured tea into her cup simply to have something to do with her hands. She was far too nervous to take a sip.
“Or he can be married next spring.”
May sensed that it was in her best interest to remain silent, so she merely nodded. Below in the grounds, a gardener was cutting one of the hedges. His shears made a slicing sound in the warm afternoon air.
“I had several young women selected as prospective brides, but Eddy informed me that he is not interested in any of them. He kept insisting that he would wait for the princess he loved, however long it took.” Victoria set down her spoon with a definitive clang and looked across the table.
“Until this morning, when he declared that he wanted to marry you.”
So it had worked.
May hadn’t formulated a specific plan when she invited herself on Eddy’s excursion this morning.
She wouldn’t have dared to do it if Alix wasn’t already joining—May knew better than to be alone again with Eddy, after she’d asked him to marry her and he’d said no—but a group outing felt safe enough.
May hadn’t even known they would see Hélène.
She’d merely wanted to stay close to Eddy in case something transpired.
And how it had.
It had been an unexpected stroke of luck, catching Hélène and Nicholas in that embrace. All May had done was gently point out that those two had left together the previous evening, and remark that they would probably get engaged. Now Eddy finally realized that Hélène had left him for good.
It was really happening, May thought, twisting her napkin in her lap. After all her scheming, after wounding Alix and negotiating with Ducky, after her endless feud with Hélène, she had finally made it.
“I am humbled,” May said softly, “and fully sensible of the honor that Eddy does me.”
“You speak of the position. Not of the man,” Victoria noted.
May went still. She was not at the finish line, not yet. “I didn’t mean—”
“Eddy does not claim to love you,” the queen cut in. “But he prefers you to the other options, and claims that you are well suited to the role of queen. Do you agree?”
Prefers you to the other options. May wondered how much Victoria knew about the morning’s events, whether she guessed that Eddy was proposing to May out of spite. She weighed her reply with excruciating care. “His Royal Highness pays me a high compliment. I hope to live up to his expectations.”
“So you do not love him?”
Would Victoria believe her if May pretended that she had shyly loved Eddy all these years, afraid to admit the truth of her feelings out of fear of rejection? Was that the right answer?
May suspected not.
“I consider Eddy a friend. Of course, I have the utmost respect for him and for our entire family. And I believe that over time, Eddy and I can develop love between us, based on our shared duties, and children.”
There was a long silence. Victoria stirred her spoon in her cup of tea, then lifted it for a slow sip. May hardly dared to breathe.
Finally, the queen lowered her cup and stared at May. “I was prepared to let Eddy marry for love once before, and I will not make that mistake again. Our future queen must not be chosen based on emotions and impulse, but on her fortitude. Her poise,” Victoria declared.
May liked to think she had those things in spades, thanks to her father.
“Eddy is not perfect, as you know,” Victoria went on. “He is impetuous, and not nearly intellectual enough. Try as I might, I never could get him to learn a single foreign language. Do you speak any languages, May?”
“German and French. And a bit of Italian, though it’s largely conversational.”
“I’m pleased to hear it,” the queen said soundly. “Eddy needs a wife with a good head on her shoulders. One who is mature, free from impulsiveness or reckless actions. One who will remain constant.”
Clearly, the queen had taken Hélène’s refusal to convert as a sign that she was headstrong and willful, and careless with Eddy’s feelings. May hoped it made her seem more reliable, more responsible, by comparison.
The queen leaned back in her chair. “There is, however, the issue of your family. You know some people will say you are insufficiently royal.”
“I am a great-granddaughter of King George III and Queen Charlotte,” May hurried to remind her.
“But your father is merely the son of a grand duke, and an inconsequential one at that. Not to mention that he and your mother squander any income I grant them.”
Well, no one could accuse the queen of mincing words.
“The manner in which my parents conduct their financial affairs grieves me deeply.” May lowered her eyes.
“Bertie says he will not have it,” the queen added, with brutal frankness. “He cannot stand the thought of your parents at Marlborough House. He finds them too…” The queen trailed off, but May could finish the sentence. Too tacky, too gauche.
If only the Prince of Wales, or the queen, understood the truth—that the Tecks’ greatest problem wasn’t their social standing; it was Francis’s temper. His unadulterated cruelty.
But then, no one ever saw what went on behind closed doors.