Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Scottie
“Sorry I’m late.” She dragged a chair across the floor to Kate’s bedside in the sterile hospital room on a wing reserved for royals, the same room where she’d met her mother for the first time two years ago. “But you’re not supposed to be here. Your bedroom at Hadsby is so much nicer.”
“I’m a queen, I can do whatever I want.” She patted Scottie’s arm. “You’ve been out and about. Edric said he couldn’t reach you.”
“Michael and I hiked to Wenthelen Chapel. It’s beautiful.”
“The Wenthelen?” Kate perked up a bit. “I’ve not been there in years. The roads have been blocked and in disrepair. I can’t imagine the chapel being in good condition.”
“It was beautiful, Kate. Perfectly maintained. Ancient flagstones, roughhewn beams, carved and polished doors, and an ethereal hush in the nave, the Eye of God watching.”
“Still,” Kate whispered, resting the hand not tethered to a machine against her chest, “I should make the climb when I’m well again. Or pay for the roads to be restored.”
“So what happened?” Scottie raised her mother’s hand to her cheek. “Did you faint?”
“I couldn’t breathe nor manage the pain.”
“It’s been over two years. Shouldn’t you be improving by now?”
“One would hope.” It seemed to take all Kate’s strength to speak. “GBS has its own rules.”
Scottie scooted closer. “I saw Emmanuel, Kate.”
“Ah, yes…” Kate drew a deep, weighted breath.
Edric rose from his chair in the corner. “I’ll ring the doctor. Kate, my darling, can you hear me?”
She stretched her eyes open. “I can hear you. Scottie saw Him. Emmanuel.”
“Well, how fine. You thought she might, no?” Edric returned to his corner while Scottie told the story of Emmanuel walking in and out of the woods. Now was not the time to speak of her and Michael’s discoveries.
“You can trust Him, Scottie,” Kate said softly. “Yes, Edric, I thought He’d reveal Himself to her.”
Arabella arrived with her husband Sir William, and Scottie retreated to the elegant Royal Waiting Room, where she sipped tea and collected herself from the highs and lows of the day.
If Emmanuel was interested in what Scottie and Michael were doing at the Wenthelen Chapel, He had to be—must be—interested in what took place in the room next door. Michael’s story about Purnell remained fresh in her memory.
Edric came into the waiting room with Sir William for a cup of tea, saying how Arabella had Kate laughing with a childhood memory. But Scottie tempered her enthusiasm. Purnell had rebounded too. Then died.
Cranston arrived with a spread from Chef George. Arabella joined Sir William while Edric returned to his wife. The aromas were so tempting, but Scottie texted Dad and Shug first, then a few friends at home. And finally, Michael.
Scottie: She’s doing better but I keep thinking of Purnell’s story. She has to be okay.
Michael: She will beat this, lass. It’s who she is. She’s not like Purnell, Scottie. She didn’t hide her illness.
Around eight, John and Gemma arrived with their baby prince, Magnus John Edric Titus Mac—for Gemma’s father—and everyone called him Mac.
Princess Imani followed with Princess Rachel.
Around midnight, an exhausted but happy Gus and Daffy walked in with Princess Tillie, so beautifully bright-eyed.
And as concerned as they all were, the family reunion was warm and welcoming.
Scottie’s brothers hugged and thanked her for “holding down the fort” and probed her opinion on their mother’s health.
One by one, the family took a turn with Kate, returning to the waiting room to dine on Chef George’s cuisine and exchange stories from their time apart. Scottie sank into the center of it all, surprised this company of royals she called family embraced her.
She’d grown up with the love of the O’Shays, but she’d also grown up alone, save for the family gatherings at holidays or a week in the summer. She believed she didn’t need siblings or cousins, aunts and uncles, because she had her real extended family—O’Shay Shirts. Wasn’t that enough?
Yet now, in this royal waiting room, she was part of a blood family with siblings and in-laws, nieces, and a nephew. She had an aunt and uncle, a cousin. A stepfather. It was suddenly enough to make her want what she constantly denied. To be a wholehearted Blue.
* * *
“So far, Tuppence, we’ve seen nothing of the royal ball gowns from the House of Blue.
Sometimes Princess Daffodil gives us a sneak peek, but we’re two weeks out, so we’re speculating the gowns will be from Melinda House or Elnora, standard designers for our royal women. But Lady Royal? She’s a mystery.”
— Sharon Lee, fashion expert, Tuppence Corbyn & Friends
* * *
“The investigation continues into the riot at the Midlands Faire. MP Hamish Fickle has offered assistance in the investigation. The head of the RECO party has also apologized to the citizens of the Midlands but not to Lady Royal or the royal family.”
— Cable News PF @ 6:00
* * *
“Does it feel like the Rose Ball is going to be exciting this year? Who’s coming besides the usual royal set? Is Lady Royal planning to attend? Will she have a date? I’d go with her equerry Michael Cross to the edge of the earth. He’s dreamy.”
— @RoyalLoyalBlog
* * *
“The Chamber Office announced today that the Queen has been hospitalized due to ongoing GBS complications. She is reported to be in good spirits, and her medical team expects a full recovery. The King Consort, along with the princes, princesses, and Lady Royal, are currently with Her Majesty at Hadsby Castle.”
— CNC, Cable News Channel
* * *
Michael
He reserved the terrace table at Saldings on the Waterfront, dressed in a suit and tie, ordered the finest bottle of wine, and arrived early to nervously wait for Mum, not wanting her to catch him out in any way.
Saldings, one of the finest restaurants in all of Lauchtenland, maybe among the North Sea Island Nations, was not ten minutes from Pratt Printing. Mum often wined and dined prospective clients and employees here.
When Michael called to book the reservation, the reservationist knew exactly who he was and suggested Mum’s favorite table.
A server brought a basket of bread. Michael reached under the cloth for a piece.
He’d skipped breakfast for an early meeting with Dad.
They’d spent the last three days digging through archives, another trip up to Wenthelen Chapel while Lady Royal spent time with her family, then piecing together the two-hundred-year-old event that caused the House of Blue to revoke the rights and privileges of the Fickles.
“You’re here.” Mum floated up the steps into the exclusive dining corner.
“Where else would I be?” Michael rose to kiss her cheek and hold her chair.
She was, like it or not, a force to be reckoned with.
Beautiful, stylish, brilliant. But Michael knew things too, didn’t he?
Like how it felt to be abandoned by one so elegant and fierce as if he and Evan were not good enough.
“I was on my way out when Liv Collier caught me in the hall,” Mum said, reaching for the folded linen napkin.
“If that girl, woman I should say, used her wits on the job as much as she used them to film her makeup tutorials for social media, she’d probably solve world hunger.
How are you? Oh, a bottle of Lauchtenland grapes.
From The Haskells. Nineteen sixty-one. Very nice. ”
“I’m not a total oaf. Are you hungry?” Michael held up his menu, nodding for the sommelier to pour the wine.
“I’m famished, but more with curiosity as to why you set this luncheon. I nearly shouted for joy, but Evan warned me not to get my hopes up.”
“This isn’t about me joining Pratt, Mum.”
“Not yet but give me the length of our luncheon.” She swirled the wine in her glass, breathed the aroma, then took a taste. “Excellent.” She opened her menu, read a few columns, then closed it, giving her attention to Michael. “So what is your purpose today? I can’t imagine.”
Her posture, expression, and lack of imagination almost made him abandon his mission. Yet this wasn’t about his mother. It was about him and the moment on the mountain that had changed him.
“Scottie and I trekked to Wenthelen Chapel.”
Granddad Cross used to say, “If you don’t know where to begin, anywhere will do.”
“Really? And where is your royal charge today?”
“Hadsby Castle. With the Family.”
“I’ve never been to Wenthelen Chapel,” Mum said. “I’m not sure I believed it was real. Did Lady Royal take you exploring or were you on some royal mission? Was the chapel falling down round your ears?”
“The chapel is very beautiful and carefully preserved.”
The waiter arrived to take their order. Mum chose a watercress salad with grilled sea bass. Michael selected the Caesar salmon with a side of parmesan potatoes.
“How is Lady Royal?” Mum said. “She’s kept herself out of trouble for the week.”
“She’s well, thank you, and she’s never sought trouble. It finds her.”
“Is there a difference, Mick? Trouble finds you. You find trouble. Same coin, different sides.”
“Are you attending the Rose Ball?” Michael raised his wine glass to his lips, backing away from the end of the story to small talk.
“The king consort, Prince John, and Prince Gus have arrived home from their holidays. Lady Royal is rather caught up in the hustle and bustle.” Emmanuel help him—he’d reverted to small talk.
“I am attending, yes. Bought a frightfully expensive dress. How’s the queen? Has she recovered? GBS is a tricky virus.”
“Mum, you know I cannot talk about intimate details of the Family.”
“Then talk to me about intimate details of our family. What are we doing here, Mick?”
Here we go. Chin up, lad. Michael shifted about, took another taste of wine, and debated where to start since beginning at the end didn’t get him very far.