Disclaimer: Disney and Meg Cabot own the rights to Princess Diaries. I make no claim to them in any manner and do not profit from them. Enough of that- tis a day for love...
The Love Letter
Queen Clarisse Gerard Renaldi sighed.
Outside, despite the darkening shadows, she could still see the figure below her leaning casually against the balustrade of the side entryway, the soft glow of a cigar brightening then fading. Even if it were dark, she would still be able to imagine the breadth of man's chest, the angle of his jaw…the shape of his lips.
For a second, the small flush of fire lit the planes of his face clearly, allowing her to see his expression. He was by nature a somber man, but tonight he appeared even more so. Was there something worrying him?
The evening's light nearly gone, Clarisse pushed the lace curtains further aside, to better see. She had loved him for the better part of two years now. Rupert had been her husband and best friend, but he had not held her heart. No one had until he had taken her in his arms and they had danced. Since then, he had treated her with professional politeness and courtesy, but nothing more.
And now, here they were on the day all the world celebrated love- she in her royal tower and he below…both alone.
Her love was a sweet ache that filled her with joy, longing…and despair. No one could ever know, least of all him.
Suddenly, the man turned his head and looked directly up at her. Clarisse quickly dropped the curtain and stepped away from the windows for fear he would see her and wonder why his queen was observing him secretively.
Unlocking the left drawer, Clarisse took an antique pen and a bottle of ink from the library's desk, along with a box of linen writing paper. Settling herself by the fire in her living room, she imagined him giving her a single red rose, his lips kissing her gently and whispering his undying love.
Clarisse sighed again and dipped the pen into the ink. She would write him a letter, one declaring her deepest secrets and most intimate desires…then burn it.
Two hours later, kneeling by the dying fire, Clarisse held the letter over the hot embers, unable to let it go. Her words, her voice to what could never be uttered, were too precious to put to flame.
She would keep the letter locked away, just as she did her love for Joseph.
Wearily, her eyes puffy from tears of frustration, Clarisse gathered the pages and left, unaware that the slim, unmarked envelope had slipped from her pocket and fallen silently on the thick, soft carpet of the hallway.
He was almost certain he had seen her at the living room window.
Joseph shrugged and drew on his cigar, and then let his breath out slowly, the blue-tinged smoke barely visible in the fading light of evening.
Clarisse.
He glanced back at the window, but saw nothing. A fire was lit in her room, he knew, so it was very likely the queen was spending the evening in there. Was she reading? Was she thinking of her upcoming trip to England? Was she thinking of him?
Warmth filled his lungs as he inhaled, the tip of the cigar stub crackling softly as it flared, but it gave him little comfort. He loved his queen, yet his love would never- could never be returned. He would not be on his queen's mind tonight, or any other night.
Joseph shoved his hands in his pockets and walked away.
The following morning, Priscilla threw herself into straightening Her Majesty's private quarters. Being one of the queen's lady's maids was an important post and she was determined to do her job thoroughly and well.
The bed made, she vacuumed and dusted, tossing out the old flowers and rinsing the vase so it would be ready for fresh flowers from the greenhouse. That done, she headed for the hall.
It was when she was vigorously applying lemon oil to the dark wood of a Biedermeier table that Priscilla noticed the envelope lying near the entry that led to the palace hallway. The envelope was sealed, but unmarked on both sides. This was most peculiar. Where did it come from? Frowning, Priscilla looked around. There was nothing in the hall except the table and a mirror, and the writing desk was in the library.
Someone had slipped it under the door!
Her eyes widened in fright as she stared at the envelope, visions of death threats and vile intimidation racing through her brain. Dropping her cleaning rags, Priscilla nearly ran to the Security Center to find Joseph.
"You found this in Her Majesty's private hallway, near the apartment entrance?" Joseph repeated, turning the envelope over, again checking the sealed edges. It appeared to be simply papers inside- no metals or other substances that he could discern.
"Yes, sir, I did, sir." Priscilla held her breath, her eyes never leaving the envelope. "Do you think it's a threat or a ransom note, sir?"
"Do you know of anyone recently kidnapped from the palace?" Joseph asked, keeping a straight face.
Priscilla thought long and hard. "No," she finally answered. "No one's missing except for the junior footman that ran off with the kitchen cook last week from the Golden Pear Hotel."
"Then, it is probably not a ransom note," he replied, trying not to laugh. He gave her a smile. "Thank you, Priscilla, it was very observant of you. Please don't mention this to Her Majesty- I'll take care of it. You may return to your duties."
His expression changing to one of puzzlement as the maid bobbed a curtsy before hurrying away, Joseph took the envelope to his office. Few had access to the area near the queen's apartments and even fewer were authorized entry into the royal private quarters. If someone had slipped the envelope under her door, it would have to be a member of the staff. He didn't like that idea at all.
If it was a threat, he did not want the queen to be unduly alarmed. Preferring to err on the side of caution, he would rather deal it without her being aware and increase her security coverage to protect her. If it turned out to be nothing but a simple mistake, he would return it to the queen with his apologies and explain his actions.
With his knife, Joseph carefully opened the envelope and quickly read the flowing, cursive script.
My love,
Once again, I find myself wanting you, yet we are apart. I dream of how heavenly it would be to have you with me and feel your arms around me again, sharing such joys reserved for a man and woman uniting in love.
I recall the night we came together in each other's arms. Until then, such rapture was unknown to my heart and soul. Until then, there had only been an emptiness that lay waiting to be filled…
His chest grew tight as he recognized the writing. Despite the number of men paying court to the queen, there had never been anyone that appeared to be close to her, yet here was a letter in her handwriting speaking of her having made love to a man! His hand closed in a fist.
But…when? The queen's time was scheduled to the very minute. At any moment, he always knew where she was and with whom. Joseph quickly ran through a list of who had visited her apartments recently without a guard in attendance- only close friends…and the widowed Prince of Myrmont.
The papers dropped from his hand and Joseph ran his palm across his face. There was no denying it- Clarisse was in love… She was in love with someone else.
Not wanting to read more, Joseph reached for the linen sheets to place them back in the envelope. He could never allow Clarisse to know he'd loved her. Keeping his love secret, he would serve her and protect her. It was the way it had to be. Straightening the pages, his gaze fell on a passage…
…the day we danced in San Francisco, alone in the reception hall, will stay in my memory forever, for at that moment, my heart was set free.
The prince had not been in San Francisco! Confused, he skimmed the rest of the page.
…you took me in your arms again at the ball…a simple kiss to my fingertips as you led me away…if you could only be at my side for always as my love, not just my protector
…a rose, a single red rose as token of your love…
Stunned, Joseph sat back in his desk chair.
He had been the one to dance with her after Mia's lesson in the reception hall, and he had been the one to escort her from the ball and kiss her hand!
Was it truly possible?
Don't panic! she told herself yet again.
Clarisse drew a steadying breath then once more searched the desk drawer, item by item. Perhaps she had not locked the letter away; perhaps she had simply placed it on the desk. She had been tired- yes, that must be it.
Fruitlessly, she looked in each cubby, each drawer, and every stack of correspondence, then retraced her steps from the living room fireplace. The envelope was nowhere to be found- it was gone.
Someone had to have taken it. The thought of one of her staff doing such a thing was repugnant and hurtful, but there was no other explanation!
Her face burning in shame, Clarisse squeezed her eyes shut and sank into a near overstuffed chair. How utterly foolish could she be? The press would have a field day with the news, plastering it all over the papers, magazines…and that awful gossip show of Elsie Kentworthy!
The queen caught writing love letters like a hormone-ravaged schoolgirl!
She covered her face with both hands.
What if they printed a copy of it?
Clarisse moaned aloud. She should have never committed such things to paper!
Joseph.
Oh, dear heavens! What would he think? How could she explain-
But, she would have to. She had make Joseph aware of the missing letter so that when demands were made, or- heaven forbid- it was released to the press without their having a chance to prevent it, he could act.
Joseph would know what to do. He always knew.
It was late in the evening. Was he still at work? Before her courage and resolve failed her, Clarisse picked up the phone and called the palace desk.
"Would you ask Joseph to meet me in my apartment, please?" she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "I have something to discuss with him that cannot wait."
The duty agent assured her Joseph was at the palace and he would come to her straightaway. Clarisse thanked him and hung up the phone.
She sat quietly, thinking, waiting; she needed to pull her thoughts together. Before she was ready, there was a knock at the door.
"Your Majesty wished to speak with me?" Joseph asked, standing with his hands behind his back. Barely able to look at him, Clarisse paced the length of her living room, absently touching items on the mantle and end tables.
"Yes," she began then stopped. She cleared her throat. "Yes. There is a problem and I…I'm worried over what might come of it."
He took a step forward. "What has happened?"
"A document is missing and I'm certain it had to have been taken." This was awful! Clarisse turned her back to him, too embarrassed to have him see her shame. "It was a personal document and it has disappeared from my desk."
There was a long moment before Joseph spoke. "What sort of papers are missing, Your Majesty?"
"It was…" She took a deep breath. "It was a letter."
"Perhaps one of your staff placed it in the mail," he suggested.
"There was no address," she answered. "The letter was…not meant to be read."
"You did not intend for the addressee to read it?" he asked slowly. "Was it something untruthful?"
"No," Clarisse answered simply. "It was true."
"Can you tell me what the letter concerned, Your Majesty?" Though his words were gentle, Clarisse closed her eyes, forcing herself to speak.
"It was a love letter," she whispered.
"I see." Neither spoke for a minute.
"No, I doubt that you do," she finally said, a sob catching in her throat. She heard him move closer to her. "The letter will prove very embarrassing should it reach the press."
"Are you ashamed of loving this man?" he asked. She could feel his presence; he was only a few feet away.
"No! I'm not ashamed." Clarisse shook her head, searching her pocket for a tissue. "It's just that I doubt that…that the person concerned would agree with its contents."
"It is possible," Joseph answered slowly, "that he might agree with all his heart…Your Majesty."
"I have no indication he loves me," she replied. She took a deep, ragged breath. "It was only a hope…just a dream."
"Perhaps both of you have kept your love in the shadows too long," he whispered. "Turn around, Clarisse."
It was the moment she dreaded, but she had to face him. Clarisse wiped her nose one last time and turned slowly. "Joseph, there's something else I must tell-"
She stared, holding her breath.
Joseph held one perfect, red long-stemmed rose. Hesitantly, he offered it to her.
"A small token of my love."
Clarisse threw herself into his arms.
"Happy Valentine's Day, my dear," Joseph said, sitting on the side of their bed.
Clarisse smiled at him, taking the huge bouquet of red roses in her arms, burying her nose in them and inhaling their sweet scent. He always gave her roses. Always.
"My dearest Joseph." Leaning forward, she kissed him, letting her lips linger on his. The touch of him still thrilled her…even after all these years. Clarisse kissed him again.
"I'll never get away if you continue doing that," he complained. "And, despite how much I'd like to stay…"
"You can't," she finished for him. "Doesn't Parliament know it's a day for lovers?"
"Apparently not, but there is later," he promised, coming to his feet. He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss. "I'll see you at lunch, darling."
After dressing, Clarisse took her cup of tea into the library, shutting the door behind her. As on every Valentine's Day since that night, what she looked for was on the desk and she smiled.
Her heart full of love, Clarisse picked up the plain, unaddressed envelope her husband had left her and opened it.
My dearest wife….
Short and sweet Valentine's Day challengewritten for Elke. Happy Valentine's Day to all!