Chapter Twenty-Six 17 November 2023
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
That morning, when I left Colin’s apartment, I had gone back to Cumberland, but Amira wasn’t there. I took Chino to the park so he could chase squirrels among the trees. When he was spent, we sat under the bare arms of an oak and watched people rushing past in pursuit of their lives.
By the time Chino and I had returned to the house, Mary was there with the makeup artist and a silver dress on a hanger.
“Altuzarra,” she said. “The tiny cutouts at the front are a bit racy, but it’s ankle-length, so it still honours the dress code. Just.”
“It looks like armour,” I said as she zipped me into it. “Do you know where Amira is?”
“She’s getting ready at her parents’ house. The Shankars will arrive at the reception together.”
From the car window, I watched the first signs of Christmas burgeoning on the streets of London.
Soon the city would live under a net of twinkling lights.
There would be markets and mulled wine, children gliding around ice skating rinks and carollers on doorsteps.
The Earth was approaching perihelion, the closest we get to the sun in our annual loop through space. I had almost made it through the year.
“I was thinking, ma’am,” Mary said from the seat next to me. “Perhaps next year we should discuss my role.”
I looked across at her, but her face was caught in shadow. “What do you mean?”
“I just thought once you’re the Princess of Scotland, I should focus more on shaping your overall strategy. Perhaps we could bring on a professional for your styling.”
I smiled at her. “You’ve always been too clever for this, Mary.”
“Oh, I don’t mean that I feel it’s beneath me—I do enjoy it,” she said quickly. “I just think I’d be of more use to you by starting to think about the future.”
I turned back to the window and found that it had fogged over in the cold. With my fingertip, I drew two stars in the glass. “We would be unstoppable, Mary, I have no doubt.”
As the crowd mingled in the gallery, Jenny approached with her teenage son, and they bowed before us.
Granny had a trick of lavishing attention on a VIP’s plus one, so while she chatted to Harley, I pulled Jenny aside.
The palace videographer was lurking nearby, and this was one guest who would make the final cut of every social media video and television news package.
Aware of this, Jenny and I smiled at each other.
“You alright, Lexi?” she whispered.
I nodded, smiled brightly, and then offered her a formal handshake for the cameras.
“Yes, I’m fine, Prime Minister. Thank you for coming.”
When I finally let go of her hand, Jenny receded into the crowd with her son a few steps behind her, eyes brightening as people saw her, powerful men stepping forward, hoping for her favour. She hated every single one of them, but she had waded into their world in the hope of changing it.
When I turned back, Richard stood before me. We hadn’t seen each other since that August morning on the stairs in Scotland. Now, he bared his wolfish teeth in a grin before sliding his eyes over to Granny.
“Looking splendid, Mummy,” he said and dropped his chin to his chest in a bow. “As always.”
“Oh, do go on.” She sighed. “Where’s Florence this evening?”
“Laid up with a migraine, poor love,” he said, pouting. “She sends her apologies, of course—she’s absolutely devastated to miss an evening dedicated entirely to women’s plumbing.”
I was calm as he turned back to me. We looked at each other levelly, neither attempting to smile for the cameras.
It struck me then that in many ways, we were the same: two royal babies born too late, forever outshone by our brothers.
Our life’s purpose was to stay alive if tragedy befell them.
Now they were both gone, and it was the two of us in the arena.
Richard and I both knew that the crown didn’t always float benevolently into your open palms. Sometimes, you had to wrench it away from the gods and plant it on your own head.
“Isn’t this year going so fast?” he said quietly.
“Very.”
“That’s the thing about getting older. Time starts speeding up. I find that these days, I can barely remember what I did yesterday, though my memories of the past are clearer than ever.”
“Yes,” I said coolly. “I’m the same.”
He smiled, surprised. “I see.”
We both glanced over at Granny, who was already occupied by another guest vying for her attention. She had started to wilt a little as she approached her nineties. Soon she wouldn’t be able to stand up straight at all. We’re all just slowly seeping back into the earth from which we came.
Richard leaned in close enough for me to smell his breath: cigars and milk.
“And what have you decided?” he asked.
I looked around the lively room of doctors, donors and royals, the walls bedecked with paintings of the people who came before us.
That was all you could hope for in the end, a place on the wall to watch as the powerful ones shook hands and built empires.
Over the mantel was the last portrait of Barbara ever painted.
In it, her hair was silver, her sharp chin softening with age, though her neckline remained as scandalous as ever.
I met her eyes, and saw that Barbara was waiting to see what I would do.
“Did you really think I would just slink away and let you have it all?” I turned to face Richard. “Did you think I would let you take what’s mine?”
He managed to smile, though a scarlet flush was creeping from the collar of his stiff white shirt.
With all cameras trained on us, he leaned forward and put a hand on my shoulder, as if I was his beloved niece, and he was congratulating me for organising this reception all by myself.
The tabloids would say he was being paternal.
What a good brother to step in when Prince Frederick no longer could, they’d say.
“Remember, I can have Mr. Rossi on the front page of the Post tomorrow,” he said. “Don’t make me do that to you.”
I shrugged. “Call him then.”
Richard narrowed his eyes at me, irritated that I wasn’t behaving the way he’d expected. But he kept his fingers on my bare skin.
“Perhaps you’re hoping the public will forgive you when they find out about your night on the Italian Riviera.
But I think you know, deep down, that they won’t.
You lost their trust forever when you left, and while they’re giving you a second chance now, this revelation will confirm that all their suspicions about you were correct.
It will sink you. Your reign will be over before it even begins. ”
I smiled and eased myself out of his grip. “Mr. Rossi and I spoke a few days ago. He’s still waiting for you to deliver on all those promises you made, by the way. Have you been having trouble getting the cash together?”
When a servant appeared with a tray of champagne flutes, I took one, although Richard seemed too stunned to notice he was there.
The waiter drifted away to another group of guests nearby.
He glanced in Granny’s direction, perhaps tempted to tell her everything.
He could storm over to the cameras in fury and announce that I had once abandoned my mother in the Ligurian Sea.
He could call up the tabloids tomorrow and tell them all that he knew.
But Richard was not a man who ever spoke in his own voice.
If Davide Rossi was unwilling to speak for him, he knew this was over.
“I know you’re wondering how I did it,” I whispered. “It’s simple. Your friends are busy hiding their assets from Western sanctions and trying not to fall out of windows. But my friends have demonstrated far more loyalty to this family than you ever have.”
I stepped back, clutching my champagne flute so he wouldn’t see the tremor in my fingers.
And as if I’d planned it, which I really hadn’t, the Shankars appeared in the doorway to the gallery.
All three of them were dressed in black.
Amira was by her father’s side, looking daunted but beautiful.
It was Vikki who led the way, striding before her husband and daughter to greet us with a smile.
She gave Granny an elaborate curtsy and then came over to kiss both my cheeks. “How are you, my darling Royal Highness?”
“I’m very well, Mrs. Shankar. Thank you so much for your show of support,” I said. “You remember my uncle?”
Trapped by the cameras, Richard stood there with the ghost of a smile on his face while Vikki nodded.
“Yes, of course I remember,” she said. “We once met at the estate in Scotland, I believe. And you called me… what was it? A trolley dolly? A cart tart? I can’t quite remember anymore; it was so long ago.”
Before Richard could form a response, Vikki turned back to me and squeezed my hand.
“If you’ll excuse me, I must go find this brilliant doctor and write a great big cheque for her cause.”
Madhav arrived and offered his elbow to Vikki, and we watched as they exchanged the kind of smile that was only possible between two people who were living in the rubble of their old life.
But they still found beauty in it, because they still had each other.
When they walked away, Richard stood beside me, stunned into silence.
“Why don’t you go mingle?” I said to him. “I’ll see you at Christmas.”
He opened his mouth to speak. Then he stalked off in the opposite direction, probably heading upstairs to the private apartments, where he could either sulk or scheme. But I was no longer afraid of him. I would allow no one to shadow my doorstep for the rest of my life.
When Amira came before me, we stared at each other for a moment before she curtsied deeply. It was the first time she had ever done that. In silence, we kissed each other’s cheeks, but neither of us could manage a smile. She had always known me better than anyone and, somehow, she knew that I knew.
“Shall we talk later?” I murmured.
“If you like.”