Souvenirs
"I feel a little guilty about this," Clarisse said as she looked at a larger than life portrait of her late husband.
"About opening part of the Winter Palace for tourists?"
Clarisse nodded, grateful that Joseph immediately understood what was on her mind. "His Majesty disliked it when I suggested to host the annual benefit concert for the Queen Clarisse hospital in the ballroom. He wasn't happy either when I wanted to invite the University of Pyrus to use the gardens for their herbology research."
She held up the floorplan that would be handed to visitors. "He'd have hated it that the palace and grounds are to be opened to the public."
"He may have disliked it but he always trusted your judgement. And it's only from April till November."
Clarisse gratefully returned Joseph's smile. She cast a last look at the portrait and continued the tour she'd started two and a half hours ago. Well tour: Clarisse didn't feel like a tourist in a place she called home. Hers was a tour of inspection. The notebook she carried to write down things that needed improvement did not go unused. The errors she'd spotted during her first viewing had been corrected, leaving only details such as the lack of coat hooks in the newly installed tourists' toilets. She briefly wondered how her comments would be received.
"It's good to show the people ..." Joseph faltered.
Clarisse made an educated guess: "Where their money goes to? Old republican you."
"Just saying," Joseph said. His playful countenance failed to soften Clarisse. She continued her inspection in silence. Her bodyguard followed her through corridors and into rooms. Among others the tourists would see the grand staircase, the butler's former room and the old nursery. In the corridors connecting the accessible parts of the palace there were attractive displays of snow globes collected by King Rupert's uncle prince Bertrand or of the 19th century jigsaw puzzle collection of King Louis III. Other long walls were simply graced by old masterpieces. Realizing that the paying visitors would like to see something royal that was still in use Clarisse had suggested that her office would be part of the tour. The Winter Palace Visitors' Committee had been excited by her proposal.
As Clarisse stood in a doorway looking at her own office Joseph said: "Do you like the Queen's office? There's no one watching us so we might sneak in..."
Clarisse ignored him and wrote down 'my office: flowers, satin?' She hoped that she'd continue to feel at home here even though it would hardly be a private place anymore. And what about the Rose Garden she'd designed, her little haven near the lake?
Joseph looked over her shoulder. She knew that he knew that she disliked that from all other people but him. She felt he was pushing things.
"The tourists won't be allowed access and I'm taking the tourists' tour Joseph."
And with that she walked passed him toward the next arrow.
"The King might have been uncomfortable with people walking around here but have you asked yourself how you feel about it?"
Still walking ahead of her bodyguard Clarisse curtly said: "I'm fine with it."
In what used to be the servants' dining room they watched a documentary about the history and use of the Winter Palace hosted by baron Lamboley, the palace's chamberlain.
Feeling annoyed with herself for having acted the way she had Clarisse said: "He's got a good voice and presence for it, don't you agree?"
"Absolutely!" Joe said.
The Queen rose.
"No comments?" Joe said gesturing at Clarisse's little notebook. The surprised look on his face made her laugh and his following smile made her feel oddly pleased.
"Not this time Joseph. Now let's see if the film about the monarchy turned out equally well."
On their way to the next modest cinema they passed a kitchen that was part of the tour.
Standing next to the Queen in an accessible part of the original 18th century kitchen Joseph said: "Look at all these things."
And just like that Clarisse's mood changed again. She was sure Joseph meant to say something in the line of 'look at all these things used to pamper a handful of people'.
"It's not just to feed me," she retorted. "Meals for all the staff are prepared here also."
This time when she wanted to walk away, leaving sinks and pots and machines that were alien to her, she was stopped.
"Clarisse."
Before she could free her wrist from his gentle grip he released her.
"What is wrong?"
"Nothing Joseph!"
The twenty-minute interview with prince Philippe and the late King lasted very long. After that Clarisse checked an exhibition about the Winter Palace's grounds. Trying to get on good terms with Joseph again she said: "What do you think of this exhibition?"
"I don't care much for gardens."
Clarisse suppressed a sigh. She took her time to see if the information provided was correct which included the text's spelling. Not for the first time she worried about how the museum would be received. People always had something to complain about: there aren't enough rooms on show; it's a shame we can't walk around in the Queen's office, which is uninteresting by the way; there are too many benches; the benches are uncomfortable; tickets are too expensive and last but not least it's unprofessional and unattractive.
Joseph stood by the room's exit. Clarisse glanced at him from time to time: he resembled a statue. When she click-clacked toward him, he came alive and opened the door for her. The next hall served as a podium for young talented artists.
"Do you care for art Joseph?"
"It depends ma'am."
"Well, there something for everyone here."
Clarisse looked at the art from several angles and then she sat down on a bench. Above it hung a plate reading 'please allow the infirm to sit'.
"Tired?"
Moved by the concern behind the question Clarisse shook her head. "Just finding out if the seat needs a pillow."
"The devil is in the details," Joseph said.
Clarisse smiled and patted the bench to indicate that Joseph could sit down. Her eyes went over paintings, tapestries and glasswork. She inhaled the scent of Joseph's aftershave. Feeling his eyes on her she said: "It's just that seeing this palace as a museum makes me feel like an artefact."
She heard a snort. It wasn't contemptous. It was disbelieving.
"Ha! And what sort of an artefact would you care to be?"
Clarisse had hoped for another response and she didn't know how to handle Joseph's playfullness. She rose. "Oh, I don't know."
She studied the tourist map for it's validity and left for the last parts of the tour: a tea-room and a souvenir shop.
"Look at this: there's hardly enough room for people in wheelchairs or with walking aids to move around," Clarisse said. She added a comment in her notebook and angrily underlined it.
"This menu here says that the first cup of coffee or tea is free," Joseph said.
"Yes. On show of the ticket," Clarisse said while she noted down 'tea-room: mark? ticket punch?'
Joseph made a face and Clarisse was just in time to see it.
"Surprised?" she said. It came out more sharply then she'd intended.
Joseph placed the menu back on a table. "It is unusual," he said warily.
Clarisse waited to see if Joseph had more to say on the subject. It had taken her some effort to get the committee to accept her suggestion to provide visitors with one free cup of coffee or tea and right now the feeling she'd had while persuading the WPVC, that of not being in charge of her own bloody palace, returned full force.
Her heels seemed to click 'un-u-su-al, un-u-su-al, un-u-su-al' as she made it for the souvenir shop.
Finding the shop just the way she'd intended it to be made her relax a bit. She had personally selected every souvenir and her checklist had been long: souvenirs had to be of good quality, easy to bring along, environmental friendly, practical, and exclusively made for the Winter Palace by preferably Genovian firms. Clarisse had liked her self-applied task, but seeing everything gathered here made her feel out of sorts. She looked at an unfolded map hanging against a wall. It showed the Renaldi family tree and there she was: Clarisse, daughter of Henri Gerárd, 19th count of Valois. Her name was shown twice, like that of her late husband: Rupert's paternal great-grandfather had an older sister who married a Spanish prince and whose daughter became the wife of an Austrian archduke while her granddaughter married a Spanish duke and her great-granddaughter wed count Valois.
A pink line marked the line of succession. It pained Clarisse to see that no such line went to her eldest son. It still felt like a personal failure to her that Pierre had chosen to give up his birthright. And then there was the fact that her sons' names were the last ones on the map. The existence of Philippe's daughter was a well kept secret. Clarisse shook her head to fight the feeling of sadness that threatened to overwhelm her. Perhaps fifty years from now this palace would show a new film: Rise and Fall of House Renaldi. Philippe after all refused to remarry until after Amelia had the chance to accept her legacy. He would wait and wait. Ten, twenty years. Would she ever know whether the line would continue? She inhaled deeply and blinked a few times to force back traitorous tears.
Comfort, that was what she needed and since there was no tea in the deserted palace, she walked to her favourite items in the shop: silk scarfs. She inhaled their scent and let them run over her skin. When she'd calmed down she looked up to find Joseph eyeing her. Feeling caught she held up a scarf.
"Exclusively designed by Hermes," she said from behind the silk creation.
Joseph walked toward her and took the scarf from her. Clarisse looked at a colourful puzzle of the Rose Garden. One of her favorite spots here would be laid down on tables. It's good, she told herself, that people can enjoy the Winter Palace's beauty. So why did this puzzle and all other items here feel like a violation of sorts?
"This is beautiful," Joseph commented the scarf. "A bit expensive though."
"It's a palace: people expect high quality items." She really needed tea... In a kinder voice Clarisse added: "There is something for everyone Joseph, I made sure of that."
Clarisse knew the smile on Joseph's face: it was meant to calm down people. He walked over to a table showcasting various souvenirs. She glared at his back.
"I like this," he said, holding up a metal key fob with a garved out Winter Palace. He turned toward her. Seeing him looking aimed to please Clarisse said: "It is nice, isn't it? There's also one with a leather strap. I thought of you when I selected it."
"You did?" Joseph said. He found the key fob and nodded approvingly.
Clarisse, hiding a smile, walked toward a display showing birthday calenders. Soon enough Joseph joined her.
"Why are you not on it?" he asked after she'd turned the page from November to December.
Clarisse shrugged. "Foreign visitors wouldn't care for the Renaldi's and -"
"People who visit a palace are not merely interested in its architecture. You know that or you wouldn't have created this wonderful tour showing even your own office."
"I don't want..." Clarisse hesitated. Joseph's kind eyes and the praise he'd paid her made her say: "A calender like that hangs in toilets. I don't want people eyeing me when they are – Don't laugh!"
Joseph bit his cheeks but his eyes still danced with mirth. Clarisse felt like slapping his arm.
"Is that why your face isn't on any item at all? Not on the coasters, not on the tea bag holders?"
Clarisse grunted and walked to a display with iPhone covers: Philippe's idea. Next to them stood beakers. Some were decorated with a picture of the palace as seen from the lake and others were covered in painted crests of House Renaldi. Maybe some Canadian father would receive a beaker from his holidaying children, smile, say thank you and put it in a cupboard or use it to store pens in. The origin of the object would be forgotten. Clarisse knew that most of the time a monarch was a background figure even in his subjects' lives. No one ever thought of him, unless an enjoyable royal gossip spread its way through the land. It was the way it should be: the monarch served the county, not the other way around. And yet... Clarisse fingered a fan, picked up an embroidery set, put it down again. She turned over a snow globe and made it snow on the Winter Palace. A glass cage for priviliged people to play a part and amuse the public. With a small bang she placed the globe on the table.
"Oh look, here's Maurice," Joseph said. He stood near a rack of postcards. Clarisse had selected the pictures to be used, with some input from her aid, but she hadn't seen the cards yet. She walked toward Joseph and the sight of her pet, if only in a photo, uplifted her spirits a bit. She noted down 'shop: stamps?' and had a look at the other nine cards. Five of them showed the Winter Palace or its grounds. One showed the late King. Four others showed the Queen: with her dog, in evening dress with her younger son, on her throne during an audience and with her sons in the Winter Palace's Rose Garden.
"Charlotte said people would like to see the royal family," Clarisse said. She bit her lower lip.
"They will," Joseph said.
"They probably won't sell. Or at least that one won't," Clarisse said pointing at the audience card. She failed to see why people would pay for her picture. Yet a chill run through her when Joseph said: "I can imagine that."
He studied the card. "I mean look at this lady: she's regal, dressed to perfection, she has a beautiful smile and warm kind eyes. Her people know that their worries matter to her."
Clarisse felt the need for a fan. Or a handkerchief, she wasn't sure.
Joseph took her hand and bent over to kiss it.
"I will get us some tea," he said.
"Tea?"
"Yes. It's free for tourists," he said and after winking at her, he left the shop.
Clarisse made it snow on the Winter Palace again. And again. She admired some bookmarks that were made of bamboo fibers and Genovian lace. On hearing the sound of cutlery she took in the entire shop. It looked grand yet welcoming and she found that she was smiling. As she passed the family tree on her way out she felt a pang. The future was a mystery to everyone but the pressure to steer it in a specific direction made itself felt to her once more.
"I selected green Darjeeling. Is that all right?" Joseph's voice broke into her thoughts.
She blinked.
"That would be lovely Joseph."