Chapter Twenty-Five May
Chapter Twenty-Five
May
Several weeks later, May stared at herself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror, which reflected back the opulence of the private shopping area.
The few times she’d come to Linton it was hardly appropriate to get fitted for a trousseau without one’s mother. But she wasn’t exactly asking Mary Adelaide for fashion advice.
A cluster of seamstresses and attendants had buzzed around May all morning, recording dozens of highly specific measurements, helping her into sample gowns so that she might select her favorite necklines. And of course, showering her in relentless flattery.
“Mr. Curtis,” the Marchioness of Ely commanded. “Please remind us of the items ordered for Her Serene Highness’s trousseau thus far.”
The boutique owner smiled, his walrus-like mustache curling upward. “Of course, Lady Ely. The selections include fifteen tea gowns, ten matinée gowns, ten traveling capes, twelve pairs of gloves—”
“Twelve pairs of gloves!” Lady Ely cut in. “Think of how many places Her Serene Highness will go, to parades and to visit coal mines and to the harbor when the navy decommissions a vessel! She will need at least two dozen.”
Mr. Curtis murmured in agreement, and May nodded at Lady Ely in thanks.
The sheer size of her trousseau order was reassuring.
With each bolt of fabric, each ostrich feather or ruffled blouse, she felt safer, more secure.
These clothes were like armor, protecting her from the world and all its cruelties.
“Why don’t I gather some more fabric selections,” Mr. Curtis offered. “In the meantime, Your Serene Highness, would you try on this sample ball gown? Just to see the style on you,” he added quickly. “Yours will, of course, have more embellishment.”
May started into the changing room—and, to her surprise, her mother rose to her feet.
“Shall I help you undress, May?” she offered.
It was a bit strange, sharing this sort of moment with her mother when they had always kept their distance, but May couldn’t exactly say no.
Mary Adelaide followed her behind the curtain and helped unhook the buttons of her striped day dress, so that May could step out of it wearing nothing but her corset and bloomers.
“I can’t believe you’re getting married,” her mother murmured. “And to Prince Eddy! I’m so proud of you, May. You look beautiful.”
May was surprised to feel a lump of emotion in her throat. She quickly blinked it away. “Thank you, Mother.”
Carefully, Mary Adelaide removed the dark green evening gown from its hanger. “I can see that things are already changing for you. You are going to increasingly be in demand, and I hate to be another person asking a favor of you, but there’s something we need to discuss.”
May bit back a sigh as she stepped into the gown. “What is it, Mother?”
“Could you get your father a diplomatic posting? Perhaps something in a foreign office?”
“I assume Father put you up to this? Because he already asked me, and as I told him, these sorts of things take time.”
Her mother’s head dropped morosely. “Francis did mention it, a number of times, but that’s not why I asked. I was hoping that if he went abroad, I might stay here.”
May stared at her mother, irritation rapidly melting into something like pride. At long last, Mary Adelaide was standing up for herself.
Though a few divorce cases had made their way into the courts, it was still out of the question that the Tecks would divorce, especially now that they were the parents of a future queen.
But separations were tacitly tolerated by society.
Mary Adelaide could remain here in London, at White Lodge, while her husband was stationed abroad.
“I see,” May said meaningfully. “Maybe Brussels? Or somewhere even farther afield, like Rome?”
There was unexpected humor in her mother’s expression as she replied, “What about India?”
May snorted. “Can you imagine Father in India? He would despise it.”
“Perhaps we would get lucky, and a tiger would eat him.”
May gave a strangled laugh at that. Mary Adelaide met her daughter’s gaze in the mirror, and then she was laughing too.
It was a bittersweet, aching sort of laugh, the sort of laugh tinged with years of sorrow.
May hated that it had taken them so long to finally talk about Francis, even in a roundabout way.
Why had they never acknowledged his cruelty to each other?
They should have joined forces against him long ago, instead of allowing him to drive a wedge between them.
He had clearly known that they were weaker and more vulnerable apart.
“I’m sorry,” May told her mother, when their laughter had faded. “About Father, I mean.”
Mary Adelaide glanced down at the floor. “Oh, May, it’s not your fault. But this is why I’m so glad to see you happy. I want your marriage to be…well, a success.” Unlike mine, was the silent afterthought.
“Of course,” May said quickly. She was happy. What did it matter that she didn’t love Eddy? One need only look at Mary Adelaide to see the consequences of marrying for love.
A commotion out in the store shattered the tentative moment between them. Now fully dressed in the evening gown, May tugged aside the curtain to glance out.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Endicott,” Mr. Curtis said hastily. “As always, we are delighted to see you, but I’m afraid the store is closed today.”
“May will want to see me,” Agnes commanded. Then she looked up and met May’s gaze. “May! Can we speak in private? I have news.”
What choice did May have? Agnes still knew too much. May couldn’t afford for the American to be angry with her, a loose cannon who could detonate in May’s direction.
So she smiled as wide as she could and said, “Agnes! What an unexpected pleasure.” Then she turned to the boutique owner, still smiling. “Mr. Curtis, I must admit, my head is overwhelmed by all our decision-making! Would you mind if Miss Endicott and I took a turn through the store?”
“Of course! We want you to be comfortable, Your Serene Highness!” he simpered.
May looped an arm through Agnes’s as if they were still the best of friends. Together the two young women wandered toward the displays of gloves and ribbons, all eerily devoid of salespeople or shoppers.
“You shouldn’t have asked him that,” Agnes muttered.
May tensed. “Excuse me?”
“You’re a future queen. You shouldn’t have asked permission from Mr. Curtis. He works for you,” Agnes explained. “Next time you don’t say Would you mind; you just inform him what you are doing. He will accommodate you.”
May suspected that Agnes was right, but she didn’t want to admit it. “Did you just come here to criticize me, or did you have something you wanted to discuss?”
“I thought you might want to know that it’s missing,” Agnes said testily.
“What’s missing?”
“The letter from Laurent, of course! The one we blackmailed Hélène with!”
“You blackmailed Hélène,” May corrected her. “Not we. I had no part in it.”
“Oh, please.” Agnes waved away May’s protest. “You were more than content to benefit from my blackmail. From what I can see, you’re still benefiting from it,” she added with a meaningful glance around the store.
Perhaps May was equally culpable in the blackmail. She could have told Hélène the truth about the letter. There had been a moment, last fall, when she thought that she and Hélène understood each other—a tentative heartbeat of friendship that could have become something more.
Instead May had let Hélène go on thinking she was blackmailed, ensuring that the French princess hated her.
“A maidservant named Annie stole the letter,” Agnes was saying, her voice tight. “She quit, and then a few days later I opened the box where I had kept it, and the letter was missing!”
“She must be working with Hélène.” Briefly May recounted what had happened at Osborne, how she’d caught Hélène snooping through her things.
Agnes’s face fell. “If Hélène has it, she might feel brave enough to take Eddy back from you. That letter was our insurance policy, our proof. Without it, all you have is slander.”
“You didn’t hear? Hélène and Eddy are done. She’s been flirting outrageously with Nicholas, the Tsarevich of Russia.” May sighed. “She stole the letter back because she didn’t want me to blackmail her a second time, not when she’s about to get engaged to a Romanov.”
Agnes stared at May. “Hélène has moved on to Nicholas?”
“They aren’t formally engaged yet, but I’m sure it will be announced soon.”
“You’re saying that I had a letter in my possession, a highly personal letter incriminating the future tsarina of Russia—and it’s out of my grasp?” Agnes seemed outraged.
“I should think that it was enough to have one future queen in your pocket,” May snapped.
“Yes, but I should prefer to call on favors from two.”
Agnes said it so matter-of-factly, without an ounce of compunction, that May huffed out a laugh. “You’ll never change, will you?”