Chapter 21 #2
The princess lives at Kipton Palace, on the same grounds as Friedrich’s cottage.
I still don’t think cottage is quite the word for his house, but that’s the name given to the two-story, six-bedroom, lovingly updated residence.
Kipton Palace was separated into multiple apartments in the midcentury, and Princess Beatrix lives in the largest one.
The other apartments would typically have been occupied by other members of the royal family, but after her father’s abdication, the only other members who might stay at KP are Friedrich and his siblings, but the latter still reside at Vertmure.
Some more distant cousins visit occasionally from around Europe, but most of the apartments are now occupied by senior members of government.
A maid leads me to a heavily decorated sitting room, taking up most of the bottom floor.
It looks like Andy Warhol and a plant witch had a baby, and it threw up on mismatched midcentury modern furniture and geometric print rugs.
And somehow, it’s exactly what I pictured the princess’s home to look like.
Beatrix sits in a low-back chair in front of a wall of windows with the curtains pulled back, allowing in the dampened winter sun. One woman is behind her, applying dyes and foils, while another sits at her feet, which are soaking in a glass basin.
“Ah, hello, darling!” The princess calls, seeing me in the mirror on the vanity table in front of her. “I’m so glad you didn’t back out. Fritz seemed to think there was a chance you might.”
I purse my lips. “Really? He thought I would chicken out?”
“I think he found a nicer way to put it, but that’s the gist, yeah.
” She motions behind her to another chair with a foot bath prepared on the floor in front of it.
“Grab a glass of wine over there and come sit.” She says to the girl working on her hair, “Here, turn me around so I can talk with our Miss Aurelia.”
I suck with wines; Lady Maier is trying to teach me, but I don’t know much more than I’m not a red wine girl. I pour a glass of the white with a vaguely familiar label sitting in an ice bucket. On the first sip, I know it’s an expensive one and, dang, it’s good.
I sit in the chair I was directed to, and the woman massaging the princess’s feet leaves her side to help me out of my shoes and sets me to soak.
I feel like a butterfly pinned under glass as Princess Beatrix studies me a moment. It’s the same look she gave me at Navy Yard and again when we went shopping earlier in the week, but now without soccer or dresses to distract us, I feel the scrutiny even more keenly.
“You’re good at this, Nanny Sumner,” she says after what feels like five minutes.
“At what?”
“The staring game. Never back down, these women tonight can smell weakness from a kilometer away, and they will exploit that until you are a shell of a human, and they are standing over you, cackling.”
“O-okay.” What do I even say to that? She sounds like a general preparing me to go into battle. It’s just a ball.
“No,” she corrects me. “No stuttering, no stammering. Don’t mumble or mutter.
Don’t cast your eyes away, and always keep your chin at least parallel to the floor.
They are no better than you. Those women are there at the invitation of parliament, but you—You are here at the personal invitation of the prince, the one they are all after.
They should be competing with you, but they won’t. ”
“They won’t?” The woman is back at my feet, and I clench my stomach muscles trying not to laugh as she scrubs my heels with a coarse stone.
“You are a commoner. Supposedly,” she adds with an eyeroll.
On our shopping date, she continued to grill me on my status and remains unconvinced that I’ve been discounted from the aristocracy because of a technicality.
“And therefore, you don’t present a threat in their eyes. But you and I know differently.”
“We do?”
The princess scoffs. “Oh, my sweet little nanny. You still don’t see it, do you?”
“See what?” I’m starting to feel like a fool, repeating everything back as a question.
It’s her turn to pull her lips into a tight line. She’s still staring as if she can read everything about me in my eyes. “Perhaps you’re as much in denial as he is.”
“I’m not in denial.”
“That’s what they all say.” She lets out a heavy breath. “Well, that went deeper than I intended. Jilly, be a gem and pour me another glass, will you?” She holds out her empty wine glass to the woman working on her hair.
Princess Beatrix changes the topic to something much lighter, and we fall into giggling gossip and sharing embarrassing family stories, though I have much fewer than she does.
I never went to any school dances because the church mom and I attended was one of those uber strict ones that thought those kinds of things only led to promiscuity and experimenting with drugs and alcohol.
My high school best friend and I did try to sneak to homecoming our senior year, but the pastor happened to drive by and saw us sprinting across the street in our dresses.
Our mothers crashed the dance and bodily dragged us out before we even got to finish one song.
And we certainly didn’t get ready like this.
“Your Highness, can I ask you something?” I grit through my restrained giggles as my feet are still being attacked.
“Only if you call me Trixie, darling. How many times must we go over this? Do you still call Fritz Your Highness?”
I blush. “Occasionally.”
“Oh, you’re so adorable.” The princess makes it sound endearing rather than poking fun. “What is it, darling?”
“You insisted I wear slippers with closed toes, so why do I need a pedicure?”
“Aurelia, there is nothing the queen despises more than visible toes at a formal event. Remember that. Even so, we must always be ready for any eventuality. Every part of us must be impeccably prepped regardless of how much is intended to be covered.”
“Right,” I murmur as I’m finally done with the torture, and the polish job is complete.
Beatrix stands. “Alright, I’m going to wash this war paint out, and when I get back, it’s your turn in the chair.
” She taps her chin. “Definitely no color for you. That red hue you have is simply divine. But how do we showcase that incredible head of hair?” She’s still muttering as she strides from the room.