CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE – HATTIE
The classic ‘breaking news’ music rings through the room, followed by the newsreaders’ stoic tone.
“Sensational news has broken overnight that Harriet Sinclair, the future Crown Princess, may not be who she says she is. The story was published online by the St Peters Herald, who claim to have evidence that supports the fact she is not the biological daughter of William and the late Francesca Sinclair. Erika Greene is outside the Royal Palace in St Peters. Erika, what can you tell us about this shocking news?”
“Well, Cassandra, not much I’m afraid. The Herald have said they won’t be sharing their alleged evidence publicly until they’ve received a reply from the Palace, but everything seems to be in lockdown here.
All requests for a statement have been refused or ignored, and it’s not just us.
Many other news stations and journalists are camped outside waiting to hear something, but nobody can get a response. It’s radio silent.”
I sip my green tea from my bed and stretch out my legs, circling my ankles to wake up my feet. Across the room on the sofa, Rowan peels an orange. Outside, a bird sings its little song from its perch on a vibrantly blossoming tree.
Objectively speaking, it’s the perfect early spring morning.
“Do we have any idea where this allegation has come from?”
“None, as of yet,” Erika replies to the newsreader in the studio. “As I said, the Herald are keeping their cards close to their chest. Rumour has it they didn’t want to publish the story until there was a response from the Palace, but their hand was forced when another paper got hold of the story.”
“Do we have any idea who they’re claiming the crown-princess-in-waiting really is?”
“No. Nothing more than she isn’t Harriet Sinclair.
Of course, she went missing when she was seven years old, and her disappearance was extensively covered due to her mother’s close friendship with Her Majesty the Queen.
A body was found and identified as her a couple of years later, and her family believed her to be buried.
Although, sources close to her say Francesca Sinclair refused to accept it and died believing her daughter was still alive.
Without exhuming the body of that child and conducting a DNA test, there’s no way to know if it is for sure Harriet Sinclair. ”
“What about the Sinclair family? Have they responded to any requests for comment?”
“None. Much like the Palace, the Sinclair family and those closest to them have refused to speak to the media. There have been some off-the-record comments from sources claiming to be close to them about how Rosalyn and Jasmine Sinclair apparently had their reservations when Harriet quietly reappeared two years ago, and her surprise engagement to Crown Prince Finley forced them to revisit the possibility of her true identity. There’s a good chance this could be the results of those concerns. ”
“Thank you, Erika. We’ll keep in touch and update you throughout the day,” the newsreader says as the camera pans back to the studio.
“NBAC will continue to reach out to the Royal Palace, and as soon as we get a response, we will share with you both live and across our social media. One can only imagine the chaos brewing within the Palace this morning.”
“Chaos?” Rowan asks, pausing with his orange segment held up to the light to check for a pip. “The only chaos I see is outside.”
“I can’t even say that. It’s quite peaceful from our vantage point,” I say from the bed, cradling my cup. “But I do think it’ll find us momentarily.”
“Yes,” he says slowly, lowering his segment and biting into it, apparently satisfied with its lack of pips. He chews, then says, “Her Majesty has been rather incensed since His Royal Highness informed her of this last night.”
“Then I’m glad I slept through it all.” I set my cup down on the nightstand. “Why did you get sent in here anyway?”
“Her Majesty thought you might be in shock if you woke up to the news, and since the Crown Prince is attending to matters with her, she sent me to make sure you weren’t alone.”
“Oh. That’s sweet of her.” I pause. “I was expecting something, though. I did tell Rosalyn to try me last night, after all.”
Rowan sighs. “You know we could make it all go away in a matter of seconds by releasing the DNA test and having the doctor give a statement.”
“I know. This way is more fun, though.” I grin.
“And more stressful for Her Majesty.”
“I know,” I repeat slowly. “But I—”
“Hattie! Let me just release the DNA test!” The woman in question sweeps into the room, followed by Louis and Finn. “Before that vile creature speaks to someone else and spreads more lies.”
With a sigh, I pat the bed next to me, and she flounces over dramatically before sitting down. “You’re the one who taught me how to play the media game.”
“I didn’t think we’d be playing it like this,” she grumbles, earning herself a sympathetic pat on the shoulder from her husband. “I have someone waiting to ‘leak’ a story from the palace when you’re ready. Everything is in motion.”
“Are you sure you want to do it like this?” Finn asks, sitting in front of me. “We don’t have enough evidence to prove the affair for sure yet. Alec and Oscar are working on it now, but proving Jasmine is your half-sister might be harder than we think.”
“And I’m very angry about that,” Beatrix says. “How could you keep that information from me? Both of you?” She gives us both a gentle tap around the back of the head, and I dip my chin to hide my smile.
“Because you’d burn the place to the ground, and I wanted to be the one to do it,” I reply, smiling sweetly. “Besides, I thought you knew. He said he’d tell you. Finn is the one who really kept it from you.”
Finn knocks my pointing finger away and clears his throat. “I was worried about your blood pressure.”
“The only thing giving me high blood pressure is you, you brat,” she grumbles. “I never knew William had an affair. I can’t believe Franny kept that from me. I could have helped her.”
“There’s a reason she didn’t leave,” I say quietly. “I don’t know what it is, and we will never know, but I trust she knew what she was doing.”
The Queen sighs. “She likely thought it was better for you if she stayed. William would never divorce her because of how she helped him and the business become what they are today, and I can’t say they had an unhappy marriage.
If she stayed with him, it would ensure you inherited one hundred percent of everything, at the very least.”
“Then I’m sorry that it won’t be happening.” I look down at my hands as Finn reaches forwards and uncurls my fingers from my fist before I even know what I’m doing. “When this is all said and done… Rowan?”
“Yes?” he says, still inspecting his orange segments.
“How difficult is it to legally estrange yourself from your family under Askurian law?”
Everyone stills, including him.
“Miss Harriet.” He lowers the orange piece to his plate and gets to his feet, slowly walking over to the bed. “Have you thought this through?”
“I don’t want to discuss it. I just want to know how difficult it will be to disinherit myself from everything. When everything is said and done and I’ve got access to my trust fund from my mother, is it possible for me to legally part from the Sinclair family?”
He glances at the Queen and Louis, then clears his throat into his fist. “Yes, it’s possible, and the process itself isn’t terribly difficult, although complications can arise. However… You are to be a member of the Royal Family. I implore you to think of the optics.”
“The optics are irrelevant,” Beatrix says, reaching over and wrapping her arm around my shoulders.
“This is not a frivolous decision by a silly little girl. This is a meticulously thought-out plan by a young woman with every reason to distance herself from her blood family. Whatever the ‘optics’ are, we will handle them. Together. As a family.”
Oh.
There’s a lump in my throat.
Rowan inclines his head towards her before turning back to me. “It is possible, and while the process can be drawn-out and sometimes complicated, I do not foresee you having any problems given your circumstances.”
“Thank you,” I say softly. “All of you. You don’t have to do this for me.”
“We want to.” Louis smiles over at me in the kind of fatherly way I haven’t seen in years. “For you. And for Francesca. Both of you deserve so much more than William is giving you.”
Finn slips his fingers between mine and raises our hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles.
“I’ll start looking into the estrangement process,” Rowan says, collecting his plate of orange segments from the table. “Let us file for control of your trust fund and settle that matter first, and once that’s done, we can move on to other things. If I may make a suggestion…”
“Of course.”
“Wait and see how your father reacts to the situation. If he handles it badly, I daresay many people will support you in estranging yourself. In the unlikely event he backs you over Rosalyn and Jasmine, you will have a harder time of it.”
“I understand. Thank you, Rowan.” I focus my gaze on mine and Finn’s interlocked fingers as he leaves, and he squeezes my hand.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Finn asks, his eyes clouded with worry. “I should have told you last night. I’m sorry.”
“I’m fine.” I smile, even if it is a little weaker than I’d like. “I had a feeling Rosalyn might try something like this, and that’s why I took the DNA test results with me before I moved out. It’s poetic that the test she insisted upon when I returned is what’s going to be her downfall.”
“She’s a fool,” Beatrix says with a bite in her tone. “She’s a fool for underestimating you, and a fool for thinking she can attack my family without any repercussions. I know you’ve always wanted to handle this by yourself, but I’m sorry, Hattie. I cannot sit by and allow this to go unchecked.”