The flight from London to Nice lasted just under two hours. Eleanor cried for nearly all of it. Sebastian sat across the aisle from her, asking no questions, but silently making her another vodka tonic when she finished the first one.
It took almost no time for them to clear French customs. The Idrisi hotel on the coast was beautiful. The décor, as Sebastian had said, was outdated, but the views were spectacular and the public spaces had potential. Looking around, Eleanor was able to put a bit of her family drama aside and feel small glimmers of excitement. She could make a big impact here.
"Let's get a bite to eat," Sebastian says, leading her into the dining room. "Give the staff time to put some of your things away." Her vast amount of luggage had come in a separate car.
She agrees, quietly, and lets him guide her thru the bar to a table near the windows. The television over the bar is showing pictures of the Coronation. Her French isn't fantastic, but she can tell that the announcer is noting that while she and her mother both look radiant, her brother Liam is conspicuously absent. Sebastian's French is excellent, and he puts his hand in the small of her back and moves her out of the room before she can hear the rest of the commentary.
Eleanor settles into her seat, and fusses with her napkin. "I need to call the Palace," she says.
"Okay," Sebastian isn't going to argue with her. "Try them after dinner." He smiles at her, "I'm starving!"
She smiles wanly at the waiter, and lets Sebastian pick a handful of things off the menu, food he knows she likes and a bottle of wine for them to share. She's tired and broody, and vaguely irritated that Sebastian is not letting her pick a fight.
After Sebastian has tasted and approved the wine and glasses are poured, she starts up again. "I need to speak to Liam."
Sebastian nods his head. "You should call him."
"And Mum… it's weird that Robert let her Lord Chamberlain go and didn't say anything."
He smiles, still nodding. "I'm sure he had his reasons." The waiter arrives with a platter of appetizers and canapes, and Sebastian busies himself dividing plates. "Try these," he says, indicating to a fig with some kind of cheese, and bacon wrapped around it. "It's a bit retro, but it's yummy. Do your revamping talents extend to menus? There's probably some work to be done on that end around here too."
She stabs a fig with her fork. He's right, it is good. "I've never tried menus, but sure, probably. You might end up with something very bacon themed."
"I'll risk it." He talks about the features of the hotel – the pool, the spa he'd like to add, the number of suites, and the three villas on the property that could all do with significant renovation. "You'll have a blank slate," he tells her. She knows he's deliberately trying to distract her, and she lets him, and then feels guilty.
After dinner he walks her upstairs to a suite on the top floor. The sun is low on the horizon, and she can hear crashing waves through the open windows. It's much warmer here than it was in London. Sebastian points out a few features, makes sure she can work the latch on the balcony door and shows her where her things have been put away in the wardrobe. "You've had a big day," he observes, walking to the door. "Get some rest, and we can get started in the morning." She follows him to the doorway, and lets him squeeze her hand and kiss her cheek goodnight. He points to a door a few feet down the hall on the opposite side. "I'll be just down there if you need anything."
She smiles at him. She'd been as straightforward with Sebastian has she knows how to be – she wasn't looking for a relationship, she didn't want any flirting, but she had been a bit worried about how things would be once they left London. She was wary of awkwardness around adjoining suites or shared private elevators. She is grateful that he seems to have received the message.
She closes the door behind him, and reaches for her phone. Her only incoming text is one from Robert from much earlier in the day. "Bon Voyage!" She's tempted to call her Mother. They've gotten closer lately, and Eleanor knew that she was upset about Spencer's dismissal. Eleanor wants to shrug it off as a misunderstanding between her Mother and her brother. She's been gone for almost half a day at this point, for all she knows, they've resolved it by now and the Lord Chamberlain is right this minute arranging the Queen's schedule for tomorrow. Robert's first full day as King, it will be a busy day.
She heads for the bar set up in her small sitting room and pours a generous serving of Grey Goose into a tumbler. She looks at it ruefully. Jasper prefers cognac or whiskey to vodka, so those had become her chosen after dinner libations. Truth be told, she likes the vodka better, and wonders why she'd switched. She's not used to changing her preferences on behalf of other people. She's been reviewing her last conversation with Jasper in her head… 'you're my girl, Princess… … I never got that letter… walk away from here, but don't walk away from us'… It's too much for her to process tonight, but she's grateful that a well-stocked bar will be available when she does decide to deal with it.
She changes her clothes for bed and washes the make-up off her face. Her eyes are red-rimmed, but it is a testament to the mascara she'd put her warrant on that she doesn't look like a racoon. She should send the manufacturers a note. She remembers Jasper's whisper, "I like the eyes," and pushes the thought away.
She dials Liam's cell phone, and when he doesn't pick up, she fires off a text: Where R U?
He doesn't answer.
For the next week, Eleanor throws herself wholeheartedly into her work. She looks over architectural plans, paint chips, cloth swatches, and furniture catalogs. Sebastian has given her an enormous budget to work with, so she's thinking about resurfacing the pools and changing the landscaping too. They've settled into a routine. They get together for coffee in the late morning, then she works until dinner time. They've tried a few local restaurants, but as she's in France without official security, it's easier to stay on the property. She's deliberately not invited Sebastian to dine up in her room, and so far, he's taken the hint and been friendly and fun, but not tried to take things any further. Eleanor is a little concerned about how long he'll be willing to keep that up, and a little more concerned about whether or not she wants him to. For now, it's good.
Robert has texted twice. He's happy, things are great, maybe they can talk at the weekend. She's been watching the news, he looks good in the footage. She laughed out loud when D-throned devoted a full 4 columns to a work dinner Robert shared with Willow at some trendy restaurant in Hackney. As if!
After 6 days of silence from Liam, she's had it. For about two minutes, she considers texting Jasper, before deciding that it's unfair. She had pretty much demanded space, and he's given it to her. She needs to know what's happening with her twin, but she's going to have to get there on her own. Liam is totally uncommunicative, so she's outsourcing. She texts James: Where is everyone? What is going on?
It's late in England, after 10… it takes a few minutes for James to reply. In Shorteditch. They are fine.
Shoreditch?! Why the hell would they be in Shoreditch? Eleanor takes a deep breath and replies: No 1 is f*ing fine in Shoreditch. Out of deference to James, she does not add WTF?... but she hopes that it's implied, because seriously?
James replies with a series of fruits and vegetables that are meaningless. There is a bento box, and a chocolate bar, and a pair of skis and a bath tub…. All of it makes no sense to Eleanor, but she doesn't want to be unkind. She waits exactly 360 seconds for a clarification and then calls – she is working on patience, but this is ridiculous.
"This is Hill," James answers, which is bullshit, because he can see who is calling, and honestly, who calls for work at this hour.
"Foxy," she starts…. "it's me."
And now it's decision time for James. He has a role to play, Head of Security…. What do you need?...how can I help you? Or he can step up. Because like it or not, even though the ground has shifted, and this is not, exactly, the job he signed on for, the Princess is on the phone, and she has some questions.
"Princess," he starts, "how are you?" He doesn't have to say where are you, because he knows precisely where she is. He put a trace on her phone ages ago, and short of a court order, he is not about to take it off.
"I'm good," she says, "I'm fine." She's is quiet for a bit and then before James can fill the silence she says," I can't get ahold of Liam."
And here is where James has a decision to make…. If he puts her off, he can buy a day, maybe two, before Prince Liam resurfaces somewhere, likely doing something stupid. Or he can tell her the truth…. Her brother is hiding in her boyfriend"s – ex-boyfriend"s? -flat in East London, … and he's plotting, or stewing, or whatever. Maybe he's fine, or maybe he's not…. He might be in cahoots with King Cyrus (ex_King Cyrus… the king who was Cyrus… Even James doesn't know, and honestly if he can't keep it straight, who can?) Liam is physically safe – or at least as safe as Jasper can make him – and mentally he is, in short, a hot mess. James is torn between wanting to let Eleanor help and wanting to keep her as far away as physically possible. Cannes might be too close, if it were up to James, he would pick South Africa.
Eleanor has a better handle on this particular piece of her life than James thinks. She surprises him with her next question. "Have you talked to the Queen?"
The Queen has been surprisingly quiet. The French TV channels have been showing stock footage, but there has been nothing recent. Eleanor's calls home have gone unanswered, which wouldn't normally be unusual, except the Queen has also not been seen on the morning talk shows or the afternoon charity rounds, which sets all of Eleanor's senses on high alert.
"She's been keeping to her rooms," James says.
"Have you seen her since the Coronation, " Eleanor asks.
"No, Your Highness." That's James's answer…. And that is when Eleanor knows. She needs to come home.
Now.
James doesn't use her official title… not ever. He calls her Princess, or Len… or some other diminutive that she can't register when she is upset, but Your Highness is official. It's cold, and legal, and emphatically not James. It's the title used in telegrams, and Home Office cables, and other minutia she doesn't usually care about, except that now, she does.
Eleanor's voice is crisp. She could be on a recorded line… maybe she is. "Thank you Mr. Hill," she says, "We will be in touch." Eleanor HATES the "royal we"…. She almost never uses it.
Hundreds of miles away, James Hill's shoulder's relax. He blows out the first true exhale he's had in a week and answers, on cue, "We are at your service, Your Highness."
Eleanor gets to work. She tosses what she thinks is a week's worth of clothes into a suitcase she thinks might be carry-on size. Her guess is orders of magnitude off, but because she's Eleanor, she'll get away with it. She picks up her bag and walks down the hall to Sebastian's suite. She knocks on the door with authority.
To his credit, Sebastian doesn't make her knock twice. He opens the door, wearing track suit bottoms and a t-shirt that might be inside out. He takes in Eleanor's appearance, and the suitcase, and doesn't hedge for a second.
"You are going home," He says. It's not a question.
"Liam," she says, "and my Mum…. I need to go home." She's not asking for help, she's just explaining why she's leaving in the middle of the night. "If I catch the first flight, I'll be home by 11 tomorrow," she says.
He meets her eyes, " Don't be stupid." He turns, holding the door open. "Given me ten minutes. You can be wheels up in 45 minutes, home by 8."
Eleanor follows him into his suite. It's identical to hers, without the view. "I'm sorry to leave you… I can still help with this, " she waves her hands around. "From London, I mean, now that I know what it all looks like."
"Maybe, " he says. He looks at her dead on. "Take care of what you need to take care of, we can talk in a few days." He leaves her standing in the suite entryway and makes a phone call. He issues a few short instructions in French and then takes her elbow, leading her back to the hallway.
"You are all set." He tells her. "A car will take you to the airport. The plane is ready to go."
Sebastian walks her to the hotel entrance. He opens the door to the waiting car and kisses her cheek. "Have a safe trip," he says.
"I…" she starts.
"Don't," Sebastian tells her. "They need you at home." He kisses her cheek and guides her into the car, reaching across her for the belt. "We can talk in a few days."
Sebastian closes the door with a decisive click, and she is off, headed to the airport. Eleanor digs her phone out of her pocket. For a minute she stares at it, and then she makes a decision. She keys Jasper's number into the messenger app and types: Arrive Heathrow at 8. Can U meet me?
Almost immediately, she has an answer. Heathrow 8. C U then
