17. Claire
CLAIRE
“ T he service will take place in the cathedral, of course. The Archbishop’s going to preside. There’ll be the nuptial Mass, then the carriage procession. After that, the balcony appearance,” the queen said, running her finger down a list on an open ledger in front of her.
Claire nodded. She wasn’t even Catholic, though it seemed Adrien’s mother hadn’t realized that. She’d been summoned to a planning meeting that morning — a meeting at which she was to listen to the plans made for her, rather than have any influence over them.
“Must there be a balcony appearance, Mother?” Adrien asked.
The queen looked up at him and raised her eyebrows. “It’s tradition, Adrien. It’s what the public expects. Now, we need to think about the guest list for the cathedral, then for the reception…”
Claire had zoned out. She was thinking about menus. No one had asked her what she might like to eat on her wedding day.
We’re not even getting married.
And yet, the marriage was going ahead. This was far more than the casual arrangement she’d believed it to be. Here she was, sitting with the Queen of Flandenne, listening to the arrangements being made for a wedding — her wedding. It felt like a dream, but it most certainly wasn’t.
“What will your mother be wearing, Claire?”
Claire looked up to see the queen looking at her expectantly.
“Oh… I… I don’t know. Something… flowery. She usually wears flowery dresses,” Claire replied.
Her parents had only just about gotten over the shock of the announcement. As to what they were going to wear…
“I’ll be wearing yellow. We mustn’t clash,” the queen replied.
Claire nodded. Heaven forfend some fashion magazine would have a field day over the horror of ill-chosen outfits.
The meeting dragged on. Claire wasn’t asked to contribute again, but the plans were well advanced, and there was an atmosphere of expectation.
Flandenne would be the center of things for a while, and the marriage was a chance to show the country at its best. Television rights had been sold, and an estimated five million people would watch the wedding.
“I hope that wasn’t too much for you,” Adrien said, when the two of them were finally allowed to leave.
Claire smiled and shook her head. “It wasn’t as though we had to do much, was it?”
Adrien laughed. “I know… we might get to choose what sort of cake we have — if we’re lucky.”
Claire made a face. She hated fruit cake. Her preference would be chocolate, but if it was to result in a full-page news spread as to what her choice said about her personality, or something else equally ridiculous, then she’d settle with the fruit.
“Just let them get on with it. I’m going to lie down. I feel quite tired.”
It was unusual for Claire to feel tired — especially given she’d done so little. But over the past few days, she’d noticed an increasing fatigue. Adrien looked at her with concern.
“Are you all right? I thought you looked a little pale earlier on. There’s nothing wrong, is there?”
Claire shook her head. “No, I’m just tired. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you later,” she said, smiling at him before parting from his company and going up to her apartment.
But as for the reason she was tired, Claire had her suspicions, and, if they were correct, it would change everything.
Her period was late. Usually, she mightn’t even have noticed, but this month was different.
If she was pregnant, Claire knew she’d be on the front page of every newspaper in Europe and across the Atlantic.
And if she was pregnant outside of wedlock, she’d be a dream come true for every gossip columnist wanting to make their name at her expense.
Even in the twenty-first century, a princess didn’t have a baby outside of wedlock.
I don’t know for sure yet.
But how was she to know? Before all this, she’d simply have gone to the pharmacy and bought a test. But to do so now was dangerous.
If she stepped outside the palace gates, she’d be photographed, and, if she asked someone to buy it for her, how could she be certain she could trust that person not to tell someone else?
Adrien had his own doctor, of course, but to tell him would be to raise a possibility, one Claire wasn’t certain she was open to.
Am I ready to be a mom?
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. A baby complicated things — it complicated everything.
But it should’ve been the happiest moment of her life.
How could Claire open a restaurant and be a chef with a baby in tow?
Princesses didn’t give birth and have jobs.
They should be able to, but they didn’t.
Claire knew that, and it felt as though her dream was fast slipping away.
But I don’t know for certain. Not yet.
Back in her apartment, she flicked through Netflix, trying to work out what to do. She and Adrien were due to open a children’s ward at the royal hospital that afternoon, but Claire felt exhausted, and before she could even decide what to watch, she was asleep.
“Miss Bellamy? Are you awake, Miss Bellamy? His Highness is waiting.”
Claire opened her eyes, finding Esme looking down at her with a smile on her face. Yawning, she stretched out, sitting up and glancing at the clock on the television. It was after lunch, and they were due at the hospital for the opening of the ward at two.
“Oh, goodness. I’d better get ready,” Claire exclaimed, and, with Esme’s help, she rushed to prepare herself, having no time to eat or drink before she was hurrying down to the waiting car.
Adrien was already inside, and he looked at her with concern as she scrambled in next to him.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “You weren’t at lunch.”
“I’m fine. I was just tired, that’s all,” Claire replied, smiling at him.
The car glided out of the palace courtyard and through the gates into the square. A few people were waiting there — tourists hoping to catch a glimpse of royal comings and goings. Claire waved to them, even as a pang of nausea gripped her stomach.
I thought it was called “morning” sickness.
Mercifully, the hospital was only a short drive away. This was Claire’s first official engagement. She was looking forward to it — she loved kids — but feeling as she did at the moment, the sofa in her apartment was far more appealing.
“Is there anything I have to say or do?” she asked, as the car pulled up outside the hospital.
Adrien glanced at her and smiled. “Just smile and nod. Say some nice things. It’s just an opening — a ribbon to cut and a plaque to unveil. There’s nothing much to it.”
Claire smiled. The way he spoke made it sound normal to be opening a hospital ward and being the object of everyone’s attention.
To him it was normal. But to Claire, it was yet another learning curve, and stepping out of the car, she was again struck by a wave of nausea, even as she forced a smile to her face.
“Your Highness, welcome,” a man in a medical coat said, greeting Adrien, who introduced him to Claire.
“It’s a pleasure,” Claire said, shaking the doctor’s hand.
A small crowd had gathered to witness their arrival, and half a dozen of the young patients were lined up — some in wheelchairs — to greet them. A little girl with pretty hazel eyes, and her arm in a sling, stepped forward with a posy of flowers.
“We picked these from the hospital garden for you,” she said.
Claire was touched, and stooped down to take the posy, as the girl now reached out to her for a hug. It was a picture-perfect moment, and Claire could hear the shutters of a dozen cameras clicking from the press enclosure.
“Aren’t they beautiful,” Claire said. “When I get home, I’ll put them in a little vase on the prince’s desk, and we can look at them together and think of all of you.”
This seemed to go down well, as did Claire’s encounters with the rest of the children.
“You’re a natural,” Adrien whispered, slipping his arm around her waist as they were led into the hospital atrium.
More patients were waiting to greet them, and a red ribbon had been placed across a set of double doors, next to where a plaque was covered with a red curtain.
Claire was the one who was to make the opening official.
It was a wall of smiles and handshaking, with everyone telling her how pleased they were at the prospect of the forthcoming marriage.
“I’ve met a real princess,” one of the kids said, and she too gave Claire a hug.
It brought tears to Claire’s eyes — realizing she could make others happy simply by her presence and a friendly word.
“Isn’t it lovely?” she said, as Adrien steered her towards the ribbon.
“It makes the other parts bearable — meeting real people and realizing you can brighten their day,” Adrien replied.
There was to be an official photograph. The doctor who’d met them now made a short speech, thanking the couple for their kindness and attention. It was Claire’s turn now, and, with the invited guests watching, she stepped forward to cut the ribbon.
“I’m so delighted to be here with you all, and to know this new ward is going to make such a difference to the children of Flandenne and their families.
This is a place to believe in better — a place of hope for us all.
Prince Adrien and I are so pleased to know that…
” she began, but before she could finish, Claire felt suddenly lightheaded.
She closed her eyes, trying to concentrate, even as her legs gave way beneath her and she collapsed to the floor amid gasps and panic.
Adrien rushed to her side, and though she hadn’t fainted, Claire felt terrible.
Her head was spinning and her legs felt like jelly.
Fortunately, there was no better place for it to happen than in the hospital, and Claire was soon whisked away to the emergency room, where she received a full checkup.
“I didn’t have time for lunch today. It’s my own fault,” she told the nurse, who brought her some sugary tea and cookies.
“Shouldn’t she stay in for the night?” Adrien asked, but the doctor had found no discernible reason for the collapse — Claire had said nothing about her suspicions over missing her period.
She knew why she’d collapsed, but it wasn’t something she was to reveal in the middle of the emergency room, where someone was bound to overhear.
“I think I just want to go home. Will you tell the kids how sorry I am? I’ll come back and see them soon, I promise,” Claire told the doctor, who was happy to let her go.
“As long as you rest,” he said.
Adrien was fussing, but Claire was insistent, and it wasn’t long before they were back in the car, returning to the palace.
“You’ll make the front pages for this,” Adrien said.
But he looked concerned and insisted on walking with Claire back to her apartment.
“I’m all right. Really, I am. I’ve got Esme to look after me,” Claire said, after Adrien had helped get her into bed.
Claire had come to trust the maid. They were around the same age, and, had circumstances been different, their roles could so easily have been reversed.
“Well, if you’re sure. But you’ll call for me if you need me, won’t you?” Adrien said.
Claire promised him she would, and she was grateful to him for his kindness, even as felt somewhat foolish for allowing what had happened to happen.
But I need to be certain.
When Adrien had gone, and Esme had brought Claire a jug of iced water and some chocolate to keep her strength up, she decided there was no choice but to confide in her.
“Can I get you anything else, Miss Bellamy?” Esme asked.
Claire took a deep breath.
“Well, actually, I need you to go to the pharmacy,” she replied.