Chapter Thirty
Changes Coming to Line of Succession—Who’s In, Who’s Out?
With the Royal Wedding less than twenty-four hours away, palace courtiers have confirmed that a massive change is coming to the line of succession.
With the buzz around Princess Mary’s alleged illegitimacy only growing over the past weeks, as the palace has steadfastly refused to comment on the rampant rumours that have plagued our beloved princess, many members of both the public and the media have speculated that it is Mary, current heir to the throne, who may be the one removed from the line of succession.
As unlikely as that may seem to those outside the palace walls, one anonymous adviser close to His Majesty has confirmed those suspicions.
“His Majesty and the former Queen know they’ve been caught, and there’s nothing they can do about it now.
Better to take care of the problem as it is—with Princess Mary’s permission, considering she doesn’t want a reign that will only be questioned and ridiculed—than to let it fester and create distrust between the public and the monarchy. ”
Another source deeply entrenched in the royal family’s day-to-day life agrees.
“After being mocked for weeks, Mary is done. She’s happy to shed the burden of the throne, and she sees this as a chance to live the rest of her life as her authentic self.
The crown will pass to the Duke of York and his heirs, including Prince Benedict of York, likely much sooner rather than later, considering the whispers that His Majesty plans to abdicate once the next election cycle is finished.
He’s quite serious about living out the rest of his years with his new bride and daughter, and he wants nothing to get in the way of their peace and happiness together. ”
A royal announcement is reported to be coming soon after the wedding between His Majesty and Laura Bright tomorrow afternoon, the details of which have been kept private.
Though the ceremony is expected to take place at St George’s Chapel at Windsor Castle, an appearance on the balcony at Buckingham Palace is anticipated soon after the statement regarding the line of succession.
—The Daily Sun, 4 October 2024
In the weeks leading up to my parents’ wedding, I don’t see any sign of Maisie.
As far as I know, she’s still at Windsor, but at the same time, I’m not exactly keeping track of her.
It’s possible she’s spending time at Kensington with Helene and Nicholas, or maybe at St. James’s Palace, Constance’s London home.
Either way, I’m grateful I don’t have to look her in the eye, considering I still don’t know how to feel about what she did—both the whole attempted-poisoning thing and the turning-herself-in thing, possibly to give Alexander and Singh the evidence they need to convict Ben if it comes to it.
I keep busy most of the time anyway, between appearances with Kit, self-defense training with varying PPOs, and helping my mother with the few parts of the wedding she’s been entrusted with.
The menus are set; the location is set; even the flowers were chosen for her by a flock of royal wedding planners who barely listen to a word she says.
But she gets a say in her hair, makeup, and dress, though she’s restricted on which silhouettes she can wear.
The flock does eventually decide she’s allowed to wear certain shades of white, even though I obviously exist. But since she’s never been married, and since she and Alexander were engaged before he married Helene, it’s all some giant religious technicality, and in the end, the Archbishop of Canterbury even agrees to officiate the ceremony.
Which is, according to the media frenzy that follows this announcement, a deeply controversial decision.
“Alex just texted,” says my mom, who hates using phones and only has my number and Alexander’s in hers. “Victor Stephens says he’s arrived.”
“Really?” I say, twisting to look at her and earning myself a disapproving tsk from Louis, who kneels next to the fitting platform I’m standing on, his mouth full of pins as he alters the hem of my bridesmaid dress. “They’ll have someone on him the whole time, right?”
“Naturally.” She tucks her phone away in the pocket of her apron and picks up her paintbrush again, studying me. “Are you sure you’re ready for this, Evie? I’m worried.”
“Don’t be, Mom,” I say. “Really. I know exactly what I’m doing.”
Except I don’t, and I am definitely worried, even if I don’t want her to be.
I’m worried about everything—what could go wrong, what might go right, and what elements we need to pull this off with as few hitches as possible.
I’m not sure I have them all, even though I’ve run through the scenario a zillion times in my head, out loud, and on paper, with as many different people as I can.
Something is missing, though, and I can’t put my finger on it. And if I can’t figure it out by tomorrow, I might be the reason Ben gets away with all of it.
“What about you?” I say, smoothing my hands down the front of the fitted bodice. My mother may be restricted to shades of ivory and pearl, but she insisted that Maisie and I choose splashes and combinations of our favorite bold jewel tones for our dresses. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
She seems to realize that we’re not talking about Ben anymore, and she smiles a bit dreamily as she focuses on her canvas. “Sweetheart, I’ve been ready since I was nineteen.”
“I don’t mean—” I begin, but Louis slides the final pin out of his mouth and motions for me to turn.
“Other side, my dear,” he says, and I do so, watching my mom in the huge trifold mirror now. “Perfect. Hold still.”
Once I’m sure I’m not standing wrong, I try again. “I don’t mean marrying Alexander. Obviously you’re happy about that, even though the ceremony’s going to be about as stuffy as a turkey on Thanksgiving.”
She laughs. “That’s one way to put it. But I don’t care about the details, Evie. Just the person waiting for me at the end of the aisle. I can take a little stuffiness if it means getting to spend the rest of my life with him.”
I understand that sentiment more than I want to admit. “What about the paparazzi?” I say. “The endless commentary from all corners of the world? Everyone having an opinion about you, even though you’ve never met? The rumors, the gossip, the—the lack of privacy—everything—”
“Yes,” says my mother emphatically, and she looks at me through the reflection, paintbrush hanging in midair.
“Evie, I understand why you’re nervous. I am, too, for plenty of reasons.
But this isn’t like it would’ve been when your father and I were young.
It’s different now. We’ll be well protected, and while we won’t be able to hide from the world completely, we’re far more prepared for the difficult moments. For better and for worse, right?”
“Right,” I say, and I press my lips together, trying not to frown and give myself away. But she’s my mom, and even though we spent seven long years of my childhood apart, she still knows me better than anyone.
“What about you?” she says gently. “How are you feeling about this?”
“I…” I hesitate, and even though I don’t mean to, I glance down at Louis. His dark eyes meet mine, and he clears his throat.
“I need to fetch a few things for your other dress,” he says, and he stands, brushing his hands together. “I won’t be a moment.”
“Take your time,” says my mother, and we both watch him go. As the door closes, her gaze returns to me, and I take a deep breath, horrified to feel my eyes prickle.
“I’m…I don’t know how to feel,” I admit softly.
“Not that I don’t want you to be happy. I do, more than anything.
You and Alexander deserve to be together, and I never want to hold you back from that.
But…after everything that’s happened, with Ben and—and the Abr, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop worrying about you both. ”
“Oh, sweetheart.” She sets her paintbrush down and pulls off her apron before closing the distance between us with a hug. “That’s called love, darling. And anxiety, but a good therapist can help with that.”
I hiccup. “Sometimes I wish it were just the two of us again,” I mumble, hugging her fiercely, even though I know Louis will be aghast at any creases in the delicate fabric of my dress.
“I wish we could go back in time and stop everything bad from happening, and it could just be the two of us. And Grandma, but I wouldn’t want to live with her.
I’d want to live with you. And be a family with you.
I want those years back. I want it all back. ”
“Oh, Evie.” She rocks me side to side, even though I’m almost a full foot taller than her on this platform.
“It was never just the two of us. Alex was always there, even when you didn’t know it, and my mom…
she was always there, too, loving us both with everything she had.
You and I were never an island, and I’m so sorry I ever made you feel like we were. I did so many things wrong—”
“No, you didn’t,” I say firmly, burying my face in her shoulder.
“Yes, I did,” she counters gently. “But every parent does. We just don’t always know it until much, much later. And the choices Alexander and I made…believe me when I say we would give anything to take those back and to give you the childhood you deserved.”
I shake my head, realizing a beat too late that I’m getting snot on her shirt. “I didn’t want any of that. I just wanted you.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, hugging me even tighter now. “I had a hard time coming back to myself for a while, no matter how badly I wanted to be there for you. But I’m here now, and I love you so very, very much, Evie. That will never change.”