Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Scottie
“Michael, I wasn’t done in there.” Scottie matched his long strides toward the Blue Hall exit as he ordered the motor to come round to the side door. “I was hoping to end with an action item.”
“He has one. Find the proof.”
“What is wrong with you? Who texted?”
“Nothing’s wrong. It was time to go. You represented yourself and the family well, Lady Royal. You set MP Fickle on his heels.”
“He set me on mine. He’s as loyal and fierce about his family name as you and I. It’s admirable. Michael, what was on your phone? I only ask because once you looked at the screen, you changed. Was it something about Purnell? Your family or Finn? Is everything all right?”
“Lady Royal, everything is fine.” His shoulders relaxed as he spied one of Perrigwynn’s protection officers outside the door standing by the car. “To the train station, Lou. We’re headed back to Hadsby.”
Once they were on the road, he glanced over at her, smiling. “Sorry to yank you away if you weren’t ready. I could see he was bowing up for a fight. You’ve opened the door. Let’s see if he walks through.”
She dozed on the train ride to Dalholm. The royal car was like a five-star hotel with plush seats, an attendant and food service.
Back at the castle, Michael left her in the Grand Foyer and headed to the Operations Room. Watching him go, Scottie noted his slightly muted demeanor. Something was off with him, but was it for her to ask, “What’s wrong?” For now, she must hurry. Kate was waiting, she’d figure out what later.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” Scottie said, pausing to see Kate dressed so casually. “Trainers and a jogging suit. Are you going for a run?”
“A run? No. Not since I was a girl. But I am feeling better.” Kate fixed a cup of tea for Scottie. “I hear you had an adventurous morning. My secretary sent a photo of you going into Blue Hall.”
“News travels fast.” Was that why Michael left the Grand Foyer so abruptly? “I asked Michael to set a meeting with MP Fickle. Am I in trouble?”
“Not necessarily.” Kate stirred cream into her tea along with a packet of sweetener.
“But I’d like to know why you involved yourself with Lauchten politics?
I think you’ve been around enough to observe our stance on political interference.
The Crown has a strict code, a way we handle things, Scottie.
The Prime Minister and I are in touch at all times.
MP Fickle is the government’s to manage, not ours.
We have enough of an uphill battle with the people to accept you without you venturing into politics.
Heaven knows what MP Fickle will say now. ”
“I was curious,” Scottie said. “Why haven’t you met with him? Asked why he’s so hateful toward the monarchy? You’ve met with other members of parliament before.”
“I suspect it’s because MP Fickle needs to grow up. He’s tried to pull us into political situations with the North Sea Island Alliance we do not feel is best for us. He should sit down and listen, learn.”
“Kate, he said nothing about an alliance. He claims King Rein the Second stole land, property, shops, mines from his ancestors. The House of Blue, according to Hamish Fickle, spiraled them into poverty. Michael asked for proof, but Hamish said they lost their records in a Midlands fire.”
“I know well enough about the history of the Midlands fire,” Kate said.
“Evening embers from a blacksmith’s shop fell on dry kindling and half the town burned while the other half slept.
It took decades to rebuild. Did Hamish Fickle mention the House of Blue contributed large sums from our personal coffers to rebuild the Midlands?
Because those lands have always been ours, not his. ”
“Why don’t you meet with him? Share stories. Tell him your side of the truth.”
“My side is the truth.” Pronounced. No doubt.
Queen Catherine not Kate, her mother, now sat at the table.
“Meeting with him will accomplish nothing. I’ve experience with these things.
Also, the House of Blue never explains. To do so will make it seem as if the crown is defensive or worse, placating Fickle.
He’ll go on the first chat show and declare to the world Queen Catherine tried to justify whatever he deemed to be our sins. ”
“He’s probably already blabbing about me.”
“Yes, but let’s not give him any more fodder, Scottie.
I want your time here to be peaceful and pleasant.
So far you were nearly pushed into the quay, saved a woman who accused you of starting it all, then caught in the Midlands melee.
” Kate pressed her hand to her heart. “Right now, I suffer more from worry over you than the GBS treatments.”
Scottie reached for her hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the meeting. I thought I was helping, doing something you couldn’t, but I was out of line.”
“It’s all right,” she said. “As a mum, I’m a bit proud. You acted with courage today. Now, tell me, how’s your gown coming along for the Rose Ball?”
So the Fickle conversation was over. Scottie sighed with relief. “Kimbra is a genius,” she said. “The lavender fabric and lace are stunning.” Scottie took a bite of cake. “Kate, you never told me you lived with Shug and Fritz before I was born.”
“To be honest, Scottie, I’ve pushed so much of that time out of my mind, I probably forgot.”
“Shug said hearing you cry when you handed me over to Dad haunted her for years.”
“Sometimes I do think I hear that wail from way down inside. But I believe in healing, Scottie. That we can move on from our deepest pain.”
“We seem to be doing that now,” Scottie said. “What about you father? Did King Rein ever want to meet me?”
“I asked, even begged, but he suspected I merely wanted him to see you knowing his tender heart would break and allow you home. As I’ve said, Mum was silent on the subject.
I’d broken all the rules. However, behind closed doors, I wonder if she fought for me.
Every now and then, I’d catch something of an argument coming from their room.
Mum used words like ‘little girl’ and ‘family.’”
“Now that little girl is making trouble for you.”
“As all good daughters do now and then.”
“I’ll try to behave, but Hamish Fickle chaps my hide.” Scottie polished off her tea. “Don’t you want to know why he has so much animosity?”
“If he’s justified in any way, the truth will light.
In other news, the Dalholm Chief Constable along with the Detective Chief Inspector interviewed half the Old Hamlet and a good many in the New Hamlet.
No one claims to know anything of a man or woman holding onto you while you saved Mrs. Johansdotter and her daughter. There’s nothing on the quay cameras.”
“I guess there’s no way to make our request public.”
“You’d have a thousand claiming to be the one.”
The door opened and Edric, the king consort appeared, dressed head to toe in his outdoor gear, his hair wild and long, with a bushy beard covering his cheeks.
“Am I allowed in?” he said, removing his hat. “I’ve been missing my wife terribly.”
“Edric, you’re home. I thought you had another week.” Kate rose from her chair with more ease and strength than Scottie had seen since she’d arrived. Edric caught his wife in his arms for a kiss.
Scottie looked away with a thought of Michael. What? No. Not thinking of Michael. Good grief.
“We caught nothing,” Edric said, approaching Scottie for an embrace.
“We endured non-stop rain the last eight days, and Jacob Mercer never met a bar of soap he could not resist.” The king consort reached for a plate and large slice of cake.
“I thought to myself, ‘Why am I sitting here when my beautiful, clean, sweet-smelling wife awaits me at home.’ Scottie, love, it’s good to see you.
Thank you for looking after my queen.” He sat in the nearest chair to devour the cake. “Am I allowed to sit? I’m famished.”
“Of course, darling.” Kate reached for the in-house phone. “I’ll ring Cranston, have a sandwich and soup brought round. Edric, I am so thrilled you’re home.”
“I’ll leave you two to get reacquainted.” Scottie recognized her cue to skedaddle. “Welcome back, Edric.”
In the corridor, she texted Michael.
Scottie: Want to go to the Belly of the Beast?
Michael: Didn’t you just have tea with the queen?
Scottie: Didn’t eat much. The king consort is back. She wanted to talk about why I was at Blue Hall. I’m wondering that myself. Craving Ernst’s chips.
Michael: You mean Stella’s?
Scottie: Funny, yes. Meet me in the Grand Gallery.
* * *
Michael
He was belowdecks in the castle’s dark Operations Room with its bank of CCTV screens, talking with Dad about his personal MP Fickle action items, when Scottie texted.
“Dad, I have to run.” He shoved back from the desk, still pressing the old black landline receiver to his ear. “I’ve an appointment with Lady Royal.”
“Understand.” Michael used to loathe Dad’s stock answer to, well, everything.
Yet in recent years, he realized his father wasn’t using that term frivolously.
He truly understood. Even if he disagreed.
“A final word on Fickle. I wouldn’t trust a syllable out of that man’s mouth.
He’s nothing short of a political hack.”
“True enough, but not about this, Dad. Lady Royal hit the right button and out it came, the whole palaver about high taxes and land confiscation. He seemed sincere, even a bit humbled, by her inquiry.”
“Well,” Dad said with his signature exhale. “I’ll look into it for you, but I seriously doubt there’s any meat on those bones.”
Out the door and up the stairs, Michael was glad she rang. Glad to hoof it down to the pub with her. Glad to be anywhere with her.