Hello all,
Chapter 3 has arrived! Thanks to those who've reviewed. It makes it much easier to post when I know that someone is reading!
3
Vivianne Mignionette stood stone still, the envelope emblazoned with the royal seal still resting in her hand where the maid had nervously placed it. One minute she had been sitting at her desk in the living room, looking at her planner, trying to figure out how to squeeze a funeral for a barely tolerated acquaintance into a month so tightly scheduled it threatened to explode off the page, and the next minute…well, she simply could not process what happened next…the implications. Or implication, really. There could only be one reason that the palace sent a personal message addressed to her husband and herself. Every time her brain tried to tell her what the message contained her mind seemed to know the thought would pole-axe her and blew a fuse, cutting off the thought midstream.
She put the missive down gently, as if it might explode if she dropped it. She tapped her fingers on the desk nervously. What to do, what to do? Call Arthur! Yes, call Arthur – he would know what to do about this; he would tell her how they should handle this. He always did, dear Arthur. As she dialed his office, her mind decided she could handle a little information and thoughts began to bolt through her head. Half formulated and distorted thoughts, but thoughts nonetheless. Thoughts of spending Christmas at the pal …
"Minister Mignionette's Office."
"Oh, Daphne. It's Vivianne. I desperately need to speak with Arthur, is he in?" She still hadn't sat down since rising to accept the envelope. Somehow the envelope being in her house was the equivalent of King Henri and Queen Katherine walking in her door.
"Of course, Mrs. Mignionette. I'll put you through."
"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you." She sang, thrilled beyond compare that Arthur was at his desk. Vivianne sensed a pause on Daphne's end, probably wondering what in the world had gotten into her boss' wife, but the girl said nothing and connected her.
Arthur clicked on the line sounding a bit worried, "Viv? What's the matter? Daphne said you sounded…"
"Oh, Arthur. You won't believe it…we got it!" She said breathlessly. Actually talking about it out loud caused her almost to hyperventilate her words.
Bewildered, Arthur said, "We got what? What did we get?"
She attempted to calm down, putting a hand on her chest to settle her heart. "A letter. From the palace. Hand delivered."
He suddenly knew 'what' they got and, not unlike his wife's experience, the news hit him like a grenade. It landed in his lap, but took a few seconds before actually exploding in his face. Once it did and the ramifications began to abound in his mind, he felt a bit giddy; light in the head, but heavy in the gut – a strange mix of euphoric and…nauseous.
He said quietly, "Ohhh, my."
Vivianne prattled on, "I know, I know. Can you imagine? Can you even comprehend what all of this could mean? I never, ever let myself actually think about what it would mean to get to this point. Oh, my stars. I can't contain myself!"
Arthur could contain himself – but barely. He tried to grasp at one of the thousands of thoughts zipping through his head so fast they could have been on wheels and seized on the most important question. "Does Clarrise know?"
Coming back to herself for a moment and lowering her voice, Vivianne said, "Oh, no. I wanted to speak to you first."
He thought that was a good move. As serious as his daughter was about most things, including agreeing to allow the palace to deliberate her suitability, he didn't think she truly considered the idea that they would be contacted by the King and Queen. He said in a low voice as if he were afraid the walls could hear, "Well, what does the letter say? What does the palace need her to do at this point?"
She blinked, and looked down at the letter sitting on her desk. Unopened. Her heart sank for a moment, thinking that it might not be what she allowed herself to think it was. She said, "Oh, for heaven's sake, I didn't even read it."
That didn't surprise Arthur. He could imagine what a hand delivered letter from the palace would have done to his wife. She hadn't grown up among Genovian royalty as he had, so the palace was still very much a fairy tale type of world for her. She came from a very wealthy, well thought of family in England, but she had no title. She lived under a monarchy but did not come in close contact with them. He himself wasn't royalty, per se, but his family was nobility. His family tree intersected the Renaldi tree marginally, generations ago. The only tangible remnants of that connection was a title and the prestige that a title held in a tiny country like Genovia; a place on the royal invitation lists for events that included 2000 other similarly marginal nobles. He worked for the crown and had been introduced to members of the royal family enough times that there was vague recognition on their faces when they saw him now. Such fringe contact was enough that he could certainly handle a communication from the palace without losing his breath. Still, this was different. This was flying a bit too close to the sun, as it were. If things went further than they stood right now, they would no longer be on the outer bands of royalty, but deep within it; with his only daughter at the very center.
His head swam a bit and he ran his hand down his face, but…Viv hadn't yet opened the letter. That news had the opposite effect on him that it had on his wife. His heart lightened a bit. Maybe they weren't actually on the brink of an utterly bone-jarring life change. Maybe they were being invited to a garden party with 2000 other people. Yes, a garden party with 2000 other people would be nice. In his whole life he had never wanted to go to a garden party with 2000 other people so badly.
He heard Viv opening the letter and waited. She read, "Dear Lord and Lady Mignionette, Their Royal Majesties request the honor of your presence at the Royal Palace of Genovia on the 15th of this month at 4:00 p.m. for high tea with His Royal Highness, Rupert Bertrand Renaldi."
Vivianne continued reading, but Arthur didn't need to hear anymore. The letter was from the King and Queen themselves on Prince Rupert's behalf. The same Prince Rupert who was looking for a bride and who had received Clarisse's CV when her parents, having apparently taken leave of their senses, said yes, please feel free to consider her for the role as his future queen…and wife.
And did she say the 15th of the month? The ides of March for heaven's sake? Who was it that thought that was funny?
"Ugh.", was all he could say.
Vivianne stopped mid-sentence and said, "What, dear? Are you alright? You sound…"
He said, "No, I'm fine. I'm fine. Just a bit thrown. I didn't really expect…I just can't…" He sighed, unable to find the words to explain how he felt.
Vivianne sat down at her desk and said quietly, "I know. Good Lord, Arthur…they want to talk to us about Clarisse; about Clarisse possibly marrying the Crown Prince. Becoming Queen."
Her tone of voice had changed from deliriously giggling school girl to someone more in keeping with his own mood at the moment. The sheer enormity of what was being set in motion, what in fact had been set in motion the moment they agreed to allow Clarisse's name to be considered, was beginning to sink in to her. The Royal Family of Genovia considered their daughter worthy for consideration as the next Queen, not to mention mother to the next King, of a monarchy they had ruled for over 500 years. It was astounding, astonishing news. Not to mention, bone-chillingly frightening. What on earth had they done?
Not that they had much choice; it wasn't a law written and codified, but everyone knew that all eligible young ladies of a certain birth were expected to be available for consideration by the palace; the consent by the family was a mere formality. Families with daughters who were not suitable for one reason or another – a pending engagement or one that had not been formally announced and as yet was not in the royal social register, or an illness (especially those effecting a young woman's ability to bear children), or, God forbid a skeleton in a closet somewhere – were to take it upon themselves to inform the palace that their daughter could not avail herself of the opportunity. Theoretically, parents could remove their daughter's name simply because they didn't want her to marry into the royal family, but he'd never known anyone who even knew someone who had done such a thing. Not in any monarchy had he even heard a 'legend has it' story of a set of parents long, long ago. Arthur and Vivianne had none of the usual issues to deal with regarding Clarisse, so…what was the harm in allowing her name to remain on the list?
He straightened up and tried to clear his head, certain that they had many good reasons for making the decision that they made, even if he couldn't think of a single one at the moment. He said, "Listen Viv, where is Clarisse? Is she home?"
Vivanne said, "Yes, she's upstairs. She came in about a half an hour before the letter arrived. Why? Do you want…you don't want her to come to the phone, surely?"
"No, no. I just…we need to…ugh." He was so flummoxed as to what to do first he almost starting laughing at himself.
He took a breath and said, "You and I need to talk about what we are going to tell her. We'll have to respond to the letter quickly – but I want to talk to her; see how she is about this and get her mentally prepared for what happens next…whatever the bloody hell that is. I don't know that she really thought much past her name being considered. Not that you or I did, either." He took another breath and ran his hand down his face again, "Jesus, Viv this is unnerving – I mean, there's no turning back from this."
Vivianne swallowed and said nothing, forgetting for the moment that Arthur couldn't hear her nodding through the phone.
