Chapter 6
Meredith felt uncomfortable yet curious as she peeked into the master bedroom.
She really didn’t think the boy should be showing his absent father’s room on his house tour, but the young boy just marched in like he owned the place, pointing out what he felt were items of interest in the masculine room.
Like in the halls, a couple of mounted trophy heads hung on the walls.
An elk and an antelope stared blankly across the room at each other with glassy eyes.
The whole thing kind of gave her the creeps, but she said nothing as she studied them.
“Papa used to go hunting with his father and brothers. Once in Africa. And once in America. But not anymore. He still has his guns, but he told me he won’t kill any more animals again. Ever.”
She was curious about what had gotten him to that decision but didn’t want to ask. Instead, noticing there were no photos on his bureau, she inquired about that. “I haven’t noticed any personal photos in your house, Mishka. Not of you children…or family or anything.”
“I have a picture album in my room. Grandmama helped me make it.”
“Oh, maybe you will show me sometime.”
“Sure. We can do that.” He paused. “That’s Mrs. Warner’s bell for dinner.
We better go down now. She can get quite contrary if we’re late.
We’ll take the secret stairs.” He took her hand and led her down a narrow back stairway to the kitchen and servants’ quarters where his sister and Mrs. Warner seemed to be in some kind of dispute.
“Why can’t we eat in here?” Katerina demanded as Mrs. Warner was shooing her out of the kitchen toward the formal dining room. Mishka and Meredith followed to see three proper place settings waiting on the large table, complete with a white tablecloth and linen napkins.
“Because your father has told me in no uncertain terms that you are only to eat in the kitchen when you don’t have a nanny to eat with you. You now have a nanny, so you may eat out here.”
“I’m too old for a nanny,” Katerina said indignantly.
“Call her a governess if it makes you feel better.” Mrs. Warner shot an I-told-you-so glance at Meredith. “Makes no difference to me.”
“Fine. I’ll call her a nanny since she’s probably only here to take care of my baby brother anyway. Maybe we’ll get lucky, and she’ll teach George good manners.”
“I have good manners,” he protested.
“You do not,” Katerina argued. “Everyone knows you eat like a pig.”
“You’re a pig,” he shot back.
“Enough bickering,” Mrs. Warner said sharply. “Your father expects you both to practice your good manners and eat like civilized people in the dining room. So no arguments.” She pointed at Katerina. “Especially you, young lady. You’re old enough to know better.”
Katerina stuck out her tongue as soon as the older woman’s back was turned.
Then, seeing she’d been spied by Meredith, she slid into a chair with a glowering expression.
She clearly planned to make this difficult every step of the way.
Meredith would need to be on her toes with both these children from here on out.
Not only that, but her own table skills were about to be tested.
Having been raised by a dad who liked dining in the living room with old westerns playing loudly on the TV, she was hardly an expert on etiquette.
And she was expected to be of help to these children?
She frowned at the complicated table settings and silently prayed for wisdom.
After Mrs. Warner served their dinners, Meredith nodded at the children then bowed her head and, without asking their consent, said a quick but heartfelt blessing.
“And I pray you will help me to be of help to this family,” she added.
“Amen.” When she opened her eyes, both children were staring at her with wide eyes.
“Have you never heard anyone ask a blessing?” She unfolded her napkin.
“Papa does sometimes,” Mishka confessed. “But not like you did. You sounded like you were really talking to God.”
Meredith smiled. “I was.”
“Papa says words like thee and thy when he says a blessing,” he explained.
“Well, it’s okay to pray like that. But God is my friend. And that’s how I talk to him. Like a friend.” But both children were still looking at her like she had two heads. Her smile remained fixed as she stared down at the place setting. “Can I make a confession to you two?”
They looked surprised, but both nodded with curiosity.
“I don’t know how your place settings work or which forks to use for what. Can you both help me?”
“Are you serious?” Katerina’s scowl looked skeptical.
“I am.” She briefly told them how she’d been raised by a dad who didn’t put much stock into table manners.
“But he’s a good man. And he knows how to survive in the woods.
Right now he’s on an outdoor adventure.” She explained a bit about the PCT trek.
Katerina looked almost impressed. But then she explained to Meredith how to use a small fork for salad, which made no sense, and what looked like a soup spoon she said to use for dessert.
“That’s not right,” Mishka argued. “Kat’s trying to trick you.”
“I suspected as much.” Meredith winked at him. “But that’s okay. I probably would’ve done the same thing when I was her age.”
“Really?” He looked worried.
“How old are you, Kat?”
“Almost thirteen,” she answered with a smug expression. “Nearly grown up.”
“Well, thirteen is quite old. But you have a ways to go yet.”
“Mary, Queen of Scots, became queen when she was only six days old,” Mishka announced.
Meredith laughed. “I don’t see how that relates too much. Goodness, a baby couldn’t rule a country.”
“Maybe not, but Victoria was only eighteen when she became the queen of England. That’s only six years older than me.” Katerina held her head high, as if Queen Victoria were some kind of role model.
“Why all this talk about royalty?” Meredith asked them. “You both seem slightly obsessed by the subject.” She watched as the children exchanged slightly confused looks.
“Don’t you know who we are?” Katerina asked with a somewhat sincere expression.
“Not very well, I’m afraid. I only met your father today. And I was hired rather abruptly to come here to work. Is there something I’m missing?”
Katerina rolled her eyes. “So you don’t know that I am Princess Katerina Anastasia Badura Malikov Novosad the Third, direct heir to the Rotslavic throne?”
Meredith blinked, trying to think of a response to this audacious child’s pranks. She was obviously trying to pull her leg, just like she’d done with the forks and spoons. “Well, I am the queen of Eureka,” Meredith proclaimed with a sly grin.
“Really? Is that true?” Mishka’s dark eyes were wider than ever now. He seemed to be buying it.
Meredith laughed. “Well, in a way it’s true. I went to Pleasant Hill High School in Oregon, and I was elected homecoming queen during my senior year.”
Katerina looked unimpressed. “Well, my title is true. My grandmother is Queen Katerina Anastasia Badura Malikov Novosad the First. My mother was Princess Katerina Anastasia Badura Malikov Novosad the Second. I am my mother’s firstborn direct descendent.
Therefore, if my grandmother were to… Well, should she get sick, or become unable to rule, I would have to accept the crown.
Even though I’m not quite thirteen. Fortunately, Grandmama is in good health. ”
This time, Meredith felt truly speechless. She looked at Mishka. “Is this the truth?” she quietly asked him. He nodded.
“Why would I make up a story about it?” Katerina picked up the correct fork and began to eat with a slightly smug expression.
“What was the name of the country you mentioned?” Meredith asked, partly to test this startling admission and partly out of interest.
“Our homeland is Rotslavia,” Mishka said as he chewed a bite.
“Please,” Meredith corrected him. “Don’t speak with food in your mouth.”
“Sorry.” He continued to chew.
“Where is Rotslavia?” Meredith asked Katerina.
“It’s not far from Austria. It’s a tiny principality bordered by Slovakia and the Czech Republic.”
“I’ve never heard of it,” Meredith confessed.
Mishka’s brow creased. “Never?”
“We are small. Not even as big as Liechtenstein, although some have compared our countries. But Liechtenstein has more Germanic influence, whereas we are more Slavic with some Russian influence.”
“What language does your country use?”
“A form of Slavic.”
“But you both speak perfect English.”
“Our father is British. But we also speak German, French, and Russian.”
“Fascinating.” Meredith studied both children. “And because you are firstborn, Katerina, you are heir to the throne. Not your brother?”
“That’s correct. The line of succession is not gender related.” She frowned at her brother. “Thankfully.”
“But if anything happens to Kat, I’m next,” he bragged.
Katerina’s eyes narrowed. “For that reason, I keep a close watch on my backside.”
Meredith couldn’t help but laugh. She looked from Kat to Mishka and shook her head. “I must admit that you two don’t seem like siblings. Not in looks or actions.”
“Good.” Katerina seemed pleased.
“You resemble your father,” Meredith said. Kat’s coloring definitely looked like the man Meredith had briefly met at the Ritz in Vienna this afternoon. Red wavy hair, ruddy complexion, muscular build.
“I look like Mama,” Mishka supplied. “Everyone says so.”
Kat glared at him. “Shut up, brat.”
“Katerina.” Meredith couldn’t keep the scolding from her tone. “Perhaps I should call you Princess Katerina. But regardless of title, that’s not a polite thing to say to anyone. Especially your brother. I assume he is a prince?”
“I am Prince George Mikal Badura Malikov Novosad the First,” he proclaimed. “The first!”
“Hopefully the last,” Kat retorted.
“Princess Katerina.” Meredith let the reprimand stay in her tone. “Please.”
“You don’t have to call her princess here,” Mishka said. “We get to be just regular kids in Austria.”
“But when we’re in Rotslavia, we are to be called by our titles,” Kat told her. “Not that you will be there with us. Papa only wants you to help while we are in Austria.”
Meredith had so many questions now. “Why are you in Austria? May I ask?”
“Because it’s safe here,” Kat said.
“Safe? Is your homeland unsafe?”
“Sometimes. But we like it here in Austria.” Kat sipped her milk.
“And Papa wanted us to come here. For a holiday,” Mishka offered. “We would go to our island house, but the princess is afraid to fly.”
“I am not,” she retorted.
“You are too. Everyone knows it.”
“No arguing at the table,” Meredith told them sternly. “Tell me about your island house. Where is that?”
“Near Crete,” Mishka told her. “It’s beautiful there.”
“How do you know?” Kat challenged. “You haven’t been there since…well, not in years. Besides, you would hate it, George.” She turned to Meredith. “He is such a baby. He’s afraid of water.”
“No, I’m not,” he protested. “I just don’t like it.”
“You don’t know how to swim,” she taunted, “because you’re afraid of water. And you know it.”
“And you’re afraid of flying, and you know it,” he shot back. After a couple minutes of arguing, Meredith used a fork to ring on her glass.
“Do you realize you are both giving me a stomachache?” She frowned.
“What an unpleasant way to act. Especially when someone is trying to digest her food. Do you carry on like this back in your homeland where people call you a princess and prince?” She looked from one to the other.
“I would think you’d be disrespected by your countrymen if you did. ”
“Grandmama always makes us mind our manners,” Mishka confessed.
“And Papa too.” Kat actually seemed a tiny bit contrite.
“Well, just because they aren’t here doesn’t give you an excuse to act like barbarians, does it?
I’m not surprised you scared your other nannies or governesses away.
It’s a good thing I’m not a wimp.” She scowled then smiled at Kat.
“And just so you know, I don’t scare off that easily.
So you’re stuck with me for the time being. ”
“Good.” Mishka grinned as he forked into his meat. “I like you.”
Kat just rolled her eyes and let out a long, exasperated sigh that Meredith felt fairly certain would not be tolerated at Queen Katerina’s royal table, but she had no intention of pointing this out at the moment.
After all, as Dad liked to say, Rome wasn’t built in a day.
And hopefully she would last more than one day here.