10. Confiding

Clarisse stopped dead in her tracks and only stared. She didn't know that child and yet she seemed familiar.

The girl had the same brown hair Joseph had had before it bowed to age and gave away to his balding crown. But Joseph's hair had been straight. The girl's hair curled in every possible direction, happy to soak in the damp air from the fountain and to tangle itself into knots. Clarisse could see her profile and noticed a delicate pointed nose quite unlike Joseph's broader nose. Subconsciously Clarisse drew in a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, the hair colour was just a coincidence. But then her gaze fell on the girl's mouth. She had the same full, sensuous lips as Joseph and a broad smile, even though the one on display was tinged with sadness and a disturbing sense of resignation. Her eyes were averted but Clarisse somehow knew, without even looking at them, that they had Joseph's shape and the same soft brown colour.

Clarisse could also imagine the expression in them. Only once had she see Joseph close to tears and that had been when he had to tell her that her youngest son had died. Never before or after had she seen such deep emotions in a set of eyes. All the Parliamentarians and dignitaries had empty eyes ... and worst Rupert had had empty eyes whenever they looked at her. Joseph, though, had shared her heartache with her and expressed both his own devastation and his silent comfort. Clarisse was sure that the girl's eyes would hold a similar expression ... minus the comfort.

It was too much! Seeing the evidence for the truth of Joseph's words, was more than Clarisse could handle. Her throat constricted and at the same time a horrible scream seemed to force its way up her throat. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth while her eyes were wide open in horror.

So many times had she imagined to carry Joseph's child in her. So many times she had begged God on hands and knees to somehow free her from Rupert and give her the chance to start a new family with Joseph and her two boys. So many times had she cried herself to sleep, dreaming of her lost child and how it would have felt in her arms.

Being now confronted with all that again, simply through the presence of ... that girl ... she had to get away from that child. Clarisse whipped around on her heels and wanted to disappear behind the next hedge and run until she found a secluded spot where she could lick her wounds. She took only one step back around the hedge before bumping into the soft presence of another person.

The scream tore from her chest and throat.

A startled scream from the fountain answered hers followed immediately by a loud splashing sound.

"Your Majesty! I'm so sorry to have startled you," the gentle voice of the Archbishop reached Clarisse's ears. "I followed you in case you needed more moral support ... I was right it seems. Talk to the girl. You cannot run away now."

"Just watch me," Clarisse snarled in reply. For the first time in her life she felt her composure slip and her temper taking over. She was in no mood to be polite or even remotely calm anymore. The sight of Joseph's daughter hurt worse than a knife in her heart might.

Pushing past the shocked Archbishop, Clarisse bounded around the hedge's corner and out of sight. She hastened along one path, leading further into her gardens, away from the palace.

"Your Majesty?" a voice called out to her and Clarisse groaned in despair.

Why couldn't she be left alone for once and try to digest the news in peace? Who was she that everyone came to her to solve their problems? Did they really think she had NO problems of her own?

But years of service to her country and its people let her slow down. Half-expecting Charlotte or one of her underlings to catch up to herself, Clarisse worked hard to put on her professional mask of polite interest. When she finally turned around, she felt it slip from her face faster than it had taken her to put it there. Instead of coming face to face with one of her employees Clarisse suddenly found herself staring at the girl from the fountain.

Contrary to her earlier believe the girl's eyes weren't dark brown like Joseph's but rather amber-coloured. At the moment they flashed slightly impatient ... an expression Clarisse had seen multiple times in Joseph's, for example when Parliament tried to undermine her authority ... but he was better at hiding it than his daughter was.

With agony in her own eyes Clarisse again made to turn around, away from the source for her agony.

"Please don't go away," the girl's voice quavered. "Let me explain ..."

"I don't see what you want to explain to me," Clarisse said icily, holding her temper in check ... even though she knew it was a losing battle. "Your father," she spat the words out as if they were vile to the taste, "told me he loved me for all those years yet he build a family with another woman ..."

"They weren't married and he never knew about me," Megan interrupted, losing her fear for that formidable Queen to her anger on behalf of her father. "My mother wanted a baby but no husband. She had me and never ever considered to let him know because he might want to see his child or because I might need a father growing up."

"That doesn't change any..."

"It changes everything!"

Both the adult woman and the teen-aged girl were angrier than they had ever been before ... which was in Clarisse's case a much more impressive statement. They were flashing angry glares at each other and their postures were rigid.

The Archbishop was reduced to the role of spectator. He was not at all sure if he would survive if he got between the fronts. He could of course understand his sovereign and her feeling overwhelmed about the news of Joseph's child. On the other side he could all too clearly imagine a father-less childhood. He felt sorry for the girl and was also happy that she was finally able to get to know her father.

"There wasn't even love between them!"

It seemed that Megan was playing her last trump.

"If you think that makes me feel any better, you are sorely mistaken." Clarisse's voice was as cold as ice again. "What kind of man sleeps with a woman without loving her?" she asked haughtily before realising that she was talking about Rupert and finally understanding where part of her anger came from. She was deadly afraid that Joseph would now after their wedding show his true character and turn out to be as cold-hearted as Rupert had been.

"Look I know my coming here hurt you. My mere existence must hurt you. But this isn't easy for me either. I'm angry too. I grew up not knowing anything about my father. Who he was, what he was ... I wish you could just tell me something about my father and someday maybe even accept me. Whether you like it or not, I AM his daughter."

"Well, I DON'T like it!" Clarisse yelled and without another word she pushed past Joseph's daughter and the Archbishop.

She was stomping towards the palace. After all she was the Queen of Genovia and no child would drive her from the palace. She had to take control of this whole damnable situation. She hastened through the main doors and down one corridor. On her way to her office she bumped into another person.

This person shrieked in a high-pitched voice while desperately trying to maintain her balance. She panicky grasped at anything to keep her from falling as she stumbled on her high heels.

Clarisse felt two arms being wrapped forcefully around her neck and her back being bend under the weight of said person. Choking and spluttering, Clarisse now fought to maintain her own balance.

"I'm so sorry," announced a female voice Clarisse only knew too well.

"That is quite alright, Lillian," Clarisse managed to croak out.

"Your Majesty! Oh my God, I'm so sorry," Lady Jérôme gasped in horror, hastily straightening up.

Clarisse held up one hand to stop the lady to apologize over and over. She had other, more important things on her mind.

"It was my fault entirely," she acquiesced, looking along the corridor. She wanted to escape as soon as possible.

"Your Majesty? You obviously have a problem ... I'm sorry but it is ... well, obvious ... and ..." Lady Jérôme was stuttering now and looking at the floor herself. She was Clarisse's friend and confident but she had never forgotten that her opposite was in fact the Queen of Genovia.

"It's nothing," Clarisse tried to get away with this little white lie but Lillian just looked at her with a raised eyebrow

"C-Clarisse, please you have to confide in someone."

"That's what the Archbishop said, "she snapped, "and he was no real help either."

"Well, of course not. He is no woman."

"You can't help me with that," Clarisse muttered, heartbroken, hoping with all her heart that she was wrong and Lillian could actually help her.

"Just try me, Clarisse," Lillian encouraged her friend and found it much easier now to address her as an equal.

"Well, for starters Joseph lied to me all those years when he told me he loved me," Clarisse started her rant, "and he has a daughter. He never told me about her! ... I can't be with him right now ..."

"Your Majesty, with all due respect, but do you think you're behaving rationally," Lady Jérôme asked politely. "Let me tell you something."

Clarisse nodded her agreement.

"Jerôme is a Parliamentarian, travelling around all the time. We were married for 20 years already when I found out that he had had an affair with another woman. This woman one day showed up in front of my door, pregnant. Most of his so-called friends and fellow Parliamentarians thought it was a big joke. Of course some of the women pitied me."

"That must have hurt?"

"It hurt a lot. And it made me angry. I was so mad that I refused to make ... you know ... love for a year but I decided that one mistake shouldn't erase the memories of all the good times or how much we loved each other. Don't throw Joseph and your relationship with him away just because he made a mistake."

----

Clarisse was still contemplating Lillian's words when she walked in her library. She had decided to go nowhere Joseph would search for her automatically. A small table with two chairs was situated near the big panorama windows and Clarisse steered her footsteps towards it. Sitting down, she put her head into her hands and groaned in frustration. What Lillian had said had made sense. She had most assuredly not acted rationally or in control of the situation. Worst of all she had taken her anger for Joseph out on his daughter.

A faint rustling noise let her look up, wondering if Joseph had at last found her. When she looked up, she met Megan's eyes. Clarisse noticed her clothes were still slightly damp from her unwanted bath in the fountain. Good thing it was summer and the girl wouldn't catch a cold. Without a word the girl turned around and wanted to leave again. Not really thinking but rather acting on instinct, Clarisse called out to Megan.

"Please sit down," Clarisse motioned for Megan to sit beside her in one of the seats. "You said you don't know anything about your father. Let me think ... he served in both the Spanish and the Genovian Army."

"Really?" Megan finally sat down and her eyes lit up in wonder.

"Army captain. Decorated for bravery," Clarisse announced with pride, "... but not before he graduated the top of his class."

"That's pretty good."

"Well, let's see ... there is so much to remember. He is charming, quite an athlete, intellectual ... he can match words with any Parliamentarian ... very handsome, an excellent dancer ..."

"I really appreciate all this," Megan admitted, her head bashfully bowed.

"He was like a father to my boys ..."

Clarisse couldn't go on. Her throat was constricted and her eyes burned with un-shed tears.

"Of course, I did," a voice sounded behind the two women.