Chapter Fifteen #2
A hot blush stained her cheeks, and she stared down at her plate as if it were a dish of slop.
‘There is no need. My father has already consulted with a physician and employed countless tutors and governesses to teach me.’ She shrugged, but he could tell she was embarrassed.
‘If it were simply a matter of getting tutoring or wearing spectacles, it would have been easier to overcome. Aunt Mary managed to get me to my current ability, while others claimed I was unteachable.’ She leaned closer, as if begging him with her eyes to understand.
‘I am not stupid or lazy. I tried for years to improve, and I did improve. But I will always be a little slower, and when I am put on the spot…’ Her eyes watered, and he reached out to pat her hand in an awkward offer of comfort.
‘Would it help if I read it to you?’ he asked gently.
He did not want to humiliate her further, he simply wanted to help, to stop her worrying about the task ahead and help her face the challenges instead.
‘In the parlour before bed, I could read you a couple of chapters each night. Then, we would finish it in plenty of time for the coronation.’
She peeked up at him through thick dark lashes, a vulnerable hesitancy in her expression.
He realised in that moment that much of her behaviour had merely been a front, a way of protecting herself from shame.
Relief and gratitude washed through her expression.
‘Yes, please, if it isn’t too much trouble?
Can I bring my knitting? When Aunt Mary reads to me, I always knit.
I find keeping my fingers busy on something mundane helps me concentrate. ’
‘As you wish. But we shall begin tomorrow night. You seem tired tonight.’
She smiled, her body sagging with relief as she nodded. ‘I am. Thank you.’
He nodded briskly, partly because he was relieved to have a solution, and partly because he was embarrassed by her gratitude. Very rarely did he seem to do things right with other people, but tonight with Selina he had.
They went back to eating in a companionable silence. But Magnus felt like cheering, because he finally understood Selina a little better. She wasn’t lazy but frightened—and for once, he knew how to help her.
* * *
Selina was exhausted, and it was only the second day after her arrival.
Margarite had woken her at a shockingly early hour, even for Selina who liked to rise early.
She’d been introduced to the housekeeper, as well as a flurry of young ladies, who’d curtsied prettily and spoken politely, but it was clear that English was their second or even third language, and their conversations were limited.
The people of Thrudheim spoke Norwegian or Danish, although there was an old Thrudheim dialect that was similar to Icelandic and Old Norse, which was still spoken by the older generations.
She knew this because Margarite had told her all about it while she had prepared her for dinner.
Selina had asked her what would be the best language to learn in Thrudheim.
She didn’t want to feel as her mother had done, a foreigner in a strange land unable to communicate, even though that’s precisely what she was.
‘Norwegian would be your best choice, as we have strong trading links with them, and Princess Helga married a powerful Norwegian gentleman.’ Selina nodded thoughtfully as Margarite added, ‘The prince has arranged a tutor for you, and they will begin working with you after the coronation. I believe he didn’t wish to overwhelm you too soon. ’
Selina gave a derisive snort, and Margarite tried to hide a knowing smile.
The last two days had been exhausting, but she supposed she would worry about the tutor when the time came.
If he expected her to read and write the language, it would be a disaster, but she had a good ear and was hopeful of learning that way.
Margarite continued to chatter cheerfully. ‘The old Thrudheim dialect is reasonably easy to understand as it’s so similar to Old Norse. But most people struggle to speak it, so it wouldn’t be the most useful choice.’
‘Hmm, like speaking in Chaucer’s or Shakespeare’s language, I imagine—like Old English.
’ Margarite finished lacing her gown and gestured for her to sit on the stool so she could work on her hair, which she did, although she was still pondering the conundrum of communication.
‘Still, it seems a shame not to learn the original language of Thrudheim.’
Margarite seemed delighted by her comment.
‘Indeed, Your Serene Highness! My grandparents still speak it, but they live up in the mountains and are quite old. They are so sad that the old cultures and traditions seem to be dying out. There is a great fear that our dialect will be a dead language in less than fifty years or so. It is no longer taught in schools or even by governesses and tutors, as the aristocracy prefer more useful languages such as English, Danish, or Swedish as a second language.’
Margarite was the only blessing in Selina’s move to Thrudheim.
They were similar in age, and Margarite was a lively, cheerful, and kind young woman.
She also spoke excellent English from being Princess Helga’s lady’s-maid, as she had spent some time in England with her.
Although, it had been well before Selina’s father had become a baronet, so Selina had never crossed paths with Princess Helga.
She had to admit she was a little curious about Magnus’s twin.
Margarite had obviously admired her greatly by the way she spoke so reverently about her, and Selina already trusted the young woman’s opinion.
Margarite had followed her around on the tour of the palace helping to translate and explain customs. As a guide she was much better and friendlier than most of the court ladies, and Selina preferred her company.
So much for finding a new group of friends…
But perhaps, they would warm to her when she could converse with them more easily.
‘Thank you, Margarite,’ she said as the maid finished styling her hair before dinner.
She was as good with Selina’s curls as Louisa, which was a relief, as she’d always struggled to have the patience to do her own hair.
‘And thank you for today. Heaven only knows what I would have done without you! I had no idea what the dressmaker meant about the gowns until you explained everything so clearly.’
Margarite gave a pleased curtsy and chuckled. ‘She just needed to check the bodice before trimming the length, otherwise it wouldn’t have sat right.’
‘Yes, but until you explained it, I had visions of me tripping over that sea of a hem and cartwheeling down the aisle, which would never do!’
Margarite giggled. ‘Very true, Your Serene Highness. That would have been a disaster.’
Selina’s stomach flipped at the use of the royal title. Many people had called her that today, and each time it startled her. ‘I haven’t been crowned yet…’
But she would be! The idea of becoming royalty hadn’t really sunk in until today, when everyone kept bowing and curtsying and calling her Your Serene Highness.
‘But you are already married, Your Serene Highness. The coronation is simply a formality.’
‘Then, why the second wedding if everyone already considers us married?’
‘Every Thrudheim sovereign prince must get married in our stave church. It’s tradition.’
‘Stave church?’
‘It’s a medieval wooden church, very old,’ Margarite said proudly.
Selina gave a weak smile. ‘I see. And we all know Thrudheim loves tradition.’
Margarite nodded somberly, picking up Selina’s bag of knitting.
‘Is there something shorter you could call me instead? Your Serene Highness is so frightfully long-winded.’
Margarite smiled. ‘Princess Helga preferred Ma’am, like the British use for their queen after the initial deference to her title.’
Selina was delighted. ‘Then, that will do. I prefer Selina, but I suppose Ma’am will do well.’
‘Yes, Ma’am… And, you are right, tradition is very important to our people.
Our last Thrudheim king and queen reigned four generations ago.
Then Denmark seized control, demoting our prince to a vassal ruler.
Our dialect, holidays and traditional flag were temporarily banned.
Our culture was almost completely forgotten in a single generation.
The late sovereign prince and His Serene Highness have worked tirelessly to regain our independence and our way of life.
’ Margarite held up the bag. ‘Shall I put this in the parlour for after dinner, Ma’am? ’
Selina blinked at the rush of information. She suspected Margarite had been tasked with telling her Thrudheim’s history at every opportunity, and she couldn’t even be mad because she was only doing her job. ‘Yes, please. And Margarite?’
The young woman glanced up at her, a sudden worry clouding her sky-blue eyes. ‘Forgive me, Your Serene Highness, sometimes my tongue runs away with me!’
Selina smiled warmly, not wanting her to fret.
She reminded her of herself, the chaotic tumble of words and her mind always racing several steps ahead.
‘Thank you. You truly are a blessing and exactly what I need to settle in and understand Thrudheim better. I have no family or friends with me…and your help is greatly appreciated.’
Margarite’s face glowed with pride, and she stood a little taller. ‘It is an honour, Ma’am.’
‘What was Princess Helga like?’
Margarite blinked, her eyes glistening with a wave of sadness. ‘She was…exceptional, Ma’am.’
‘How so?’
‘Princess Helga was everything you could want in a princess and more.’ Margarite seemed thoughtful for a moment before adding, ‘Not to speak out of turn…’ She bit her lip.
‘Go on.’
‘Princess Helga was a diligent student. She could read and write five languages, while Prince Magnus learnt only three. She excelled with numbers and music and was an excellent dancer and sharpshooter. Her parents believed her highly gifted.’
‘I see,’ said Selina, her stomach roiling a little with how little she could live up to such a paragon of virtue. But then another thought occurred to her as she recalled the comments about Magnus’s father. ‘It must have been hard for my husband to be constantly compared to his sister.’
Margarite nodded gravely. ‘Prince Magnus is a clever man, a fierce fighter, an excellent negotiator and an exceptional sailor, but the late sovereign prince expected a lot…from both of them.’
Selina was about to ask more questions when a footman arrived to inform them that His Serene Highness was waiting for her in the dining room.
After dinner, as promised, Magnus read to her while she knitted. He’d even told the servants to leave them so that they were completely alone together. The intimacy of the moment was not lost on her as she sat in the armchair opposite him in front of the fire and let his deep voice wash over her.
He could have asked a servant to read to her, but she was grateful he did it himself. It suggested that he supported her fully and was willing to help in any way that he could. It was quite romantic, in a strange sort of way.
He’d read a few pages before something occurred to her. ‘You have more than one copy?’ she asked, gesturing to the book he was reading from. ‘Only, I brought the one you gave me.’
Magnus lowered the book and nodded. ‘You have my personal copy. This one is from the palace library.’
She didn’t dare point out that surely the palace library also belonged to him. ‘You must really love it.’
A strange and perplexed expression crossed his face. ‘When I was a child, my mother used to read it to me every night before bed.’
‘Every night? Isn’t that a little…heavy? For a child, I mean.’
‘She insisted on reading it to me, and I was grateful for her time and patience. My father would test me on at least one fact from it each day.’
‘Heavens!’ she said, a little startled that such a dry tome of history would be a child’s bedtime story—and that child would be grateful for his mother’s time. A horrible thought occurred to her. ‘What happened if you got the answer wrong?’
Magnus flinched as if he’d been struck, and her stomach dropped with the realisation that he would have been punished.
‘It does not matter. Those days are behind me,’ he said, but it sounded as if he were reassuring himself and not her.
Then he shifted in his seat and leaned closer, a teasing glint in his eye.
‘But you’ll have no roast beef tomorrow night if you don’t close your mouth and listen. ’
She fought a smile and nodded obediently. ‘Then, please continue…’
The time passed so pleasantly that Magnus completed the first five chapters of The Brief History of Thrudheim before calling it a night. To Selina’s immense relief, there wasn’t a single mention of a purple hat with green ostrich feathers.