30 November 1959
"How about that, eh?" John murmured in her ear.
In response Jean only hummed, her throat too tight to speak.
They were gathered together in his little office at the back of the pub, watching the flickering television screen and the scene of wonder that unfolded there. As it was the middle of the day the pub was empty; Jean wasn't even supposed to be working, but she had dropped by for a bite of lunch, and John had talked her into this, into coming with him to stand and watch as their new Princess was presented to the country for the first time. Perhaps the evening news might replay this footage later in the day, but Jean had no television to watch in the evening hours, and much as it wounded her she felt she ought to take a moment, ought to catch a glimpse of the Princess for herself, ought to behave as if nothing were amiss, while her heart was breaking.
They were standing together, Lucien and his daughter, at the gates of the castle, allowing the journalists and the cameramen jostling them the chance to take in the sight of their kingdom's future. It was difficult to tell from the grainy black-and-white picture, but Jean was almost certain that Lucien's fine suit would have been navy; he always favored navy. He was strong and handsome and smiling widely, at ease with the attention and his own power. If the Princess was less confident she did a good job hiding it; her back was straight, her chin held high. The dress she wore was plain but pretty, showed off the figure of a young woman recovered from childbirth and blooming. She wore her hair tied back from her face, but even through the television screen Jean could tell that hair would be black as night and shining in the afternoon sun. Lucien kept his hand at the small of his daughter's back, spoke to her softly now and again; Jean could see his lips moving, though she could not hear the words.
That's her, Jean thought faintly, staring at that pretty girl, and the bundle of white blankets she cradled in her arms. Lucien's daughter, and his granddaughter, safe and here with him. The girl must favor her mother…
It was that thought, as much as anything else, that threatened to bring tears to her eyes. I fell in love with the wrong girl, and I lost her; Lucien had loved another woman once, had loved her enough to risk his father's displeasure and his own status as heir apparent to marry a foreigner. There was no denying this love of his, when he stood beside his daughter, who was as proud and tall as any child of his could hope to be; they had each given a little of themselves to her, Lucien and the woman who had been his wife, had each of them poured their love and their hope and a little bit of their souls into a new life, and here she stood, beautiful and brave, the evidence of Lucien's love for her mother. There would be no such monument to the love Lucien had carried for Jean; perhaps, she thought then, the two loves did not rival one another at all. Perhaps the affection he'd felt for her could not hold a candle to the love he'd felt before, perhaps she had done herself a favor, in leaving before she found out the truth for herself.
Whatever he had felt for her, however much of his heart he might have been willing to give her, he was hers no longer, and there was not one single thing Jean could cling to, not one physical reminder of the time she'd spent in his arms, the hope that had begun to blossom between them, the dream that had changed her life forever. Only her memories remained, and even those would fade in time.
"The castle has announced that the Princess Li has chosen to accept her birthright, and the responsibilities that go with it," a voice echoed from the television. "She will give her patronage to noble causes, and become a fixture of royal life. Princess Li is now the kingdom's heir apparent, and her daughter, Princess Lin, is second in line to the throne. The Princess's decision not to abdicate her responsibilities has come as a relief to some, who worried what would become of the kingdom after King Lucien's reign."
"And cost me ten quid," John grumbled. Apparently satisfied with what he'd seen of the royal family he reached out, and turned off the television. Though a part of Jean's heart wanted to protest, wanted to stand there drinking in the sight of Lucien's face, she kept her mouth shut, and did not speak of her own personal grief.
"I was dead certain he'd announce a marriage by Christmas. And now that his girl's come home, he'll never get married, you mark my words."
"You seem awfully sure of that," Jean answered, trying to keep her tone light, crossing her arms over her chest and hoping that none of her sorrow showed on her face.
"He lost his wife in the war," John pointed out gently, "same as you lost your husband. And you're not in any rush to get married, are you, Jeannie? I think you'd understand better than anyone."
His quiet observation left her momentarily speechless, for he had unknowingly struck on the truth. Yes, Jean understood Lucien and his heart, perhaps better than anyone else in the world, for he had been hers, once. But she could hardly tell John that, and so she only smiled sadly, and turned away.
"I think that was a great success, Your Majesty," Alice told him. Her tone did not quite reach the level one might call cheerful, but it came as close as it ever did with her. They were enjoying a bit of tea in Lucien's sitting room following the interminable appearance Lucien and Li had made in front of the press; he had gathered them together, Matthew and Alice and Li, to enjoy one another's company as much as to celebrate. As time wore on Li would be taking on more responsibilities, and he wanted her to know these people, and to trust them, even if she could not entirely understand them yet. A tutor had been found, to help Li with her English, and though she was coming along well it would be quite some time before she was able to converse as fully as Lucien knew she would have liked. But she was a diligent student, and what time she did not spend on studying she spent shadowing her father. There was a great deal for her to learn, and Li was hungry for all of it. That trait she had inherited from him, Lucien knew, and he was glad of it.
"And you did very well, Your Highness," she added with a fleeting smile for Li.
"It was not so bad," Li ventured haltingly. She had settled herself in an armchair, with Lin nestled in the crook of her arm, and a soft smile on her face. Though several members of the household - and even the PM himself - had suggested to Lucien, more than once, that the Princess really ought to have a nanny Li had remained firm in her conviction that she raise her child herself, and Lucien rather agreed with her on that score. When they sat together in his suite in the morning Lucien would explain to Li what he was reading, and she would sit with her daughter in her arms, hanging on his every word. The tutor had grown accustomed to the presence of a baby during their sessions, and all in all Lucien thought things were going quite well as they were. Li was happy, Lin was happy, Lucien was happy, and they were all of them together, and he could think of nothing better.
"The people are happy to have you home, Your Highness," Alice told her, "and they will love you, as they love your father."
Li's brow furrowed - perhaps some of the words had gone over her head, or simply been delivered too quickly for her to follow - and so Lucien translated for her in a soft voice.
When she understood what had been said she smiled at him, and then turned back to Alice.
"It is easy, to love my father," she said, her tone full of affection for him.
A gruff sound that might have been a laugh left Matthew then, and Lucien turned to him with his eyebrow raised.
"You think I'm not lovable?" he asked, leaning back in his own armchair, a cup of tea in his hands and a certain sense of delight filling him as he looked around at those who had gathered with him, these people he loved so well. He could think of no better way to pass an afternoon, and counted himself quite lucky.
"I think some of us love you more than others," Matthew grumbled.
And it was strange, but in that moment Lucien could not help but feel as if there were something else Matthew was trying to tell him. As if Matthew were cross with him, for some reason, as if there was something, something to do with love-
"Matthew?" Lucien asked, the mood in the room shifting suddenly from one of jocular celebration to a nervous sort of tension.
"Matthew, don't," Alice started to say, but her attempt to keep Matthew quiet only spurred Lucien's curiosity; what did Alice know that he didn't? What could possibly bother Matthew, and yet in Alice's view be inappropriate for him to mention? Had they been talking about him when he wasn't present, and what on earth had they been saying? Across the low coffee table Li was watching him curiously; the conversation had quite passed her by, but Lucien's heart had begun to pound and he felt he could not stop the conversation to bring her up to speed.
"I think it's time someone said it," Matthew said to Alice, and then he turned back to his king. "You and I have known one another for a long time, Your Majesty," he said then. "And I have served both you and your father without complaint. If this is enough for you to throw me out of the castle, so be it."
"I don't understand," Lucien started to say, but Matthew was determined to speak his piece.
"Your daughter has come home," he said. "You have no need of another heir. The succession has been dealt with, and you've never been more popular. But there is a woman out there who loves you, and you have left her all alone."
Lucien paled at his old friend's words; of course he had no intention of firing Matthew for having spoken the truth, but he was still rattled, and somewhat wounded to think that Matthew could hold such a low opinion of him, given everything.
"Jean chose to leave," he said, somewhat confused by the turn the conversation had taken. "She didn't want-"
"She didn't want to threaten your reputation or the future of this country." Technically it was a gross breach of etiquette for anyone to interrupt the king when he was speaking, but it did not even occur to Lucien to reprimand his old friend, for Lucien had thrown all rules of etiquette by the wayside the moment he assumed the throne. "I don't think there's a risk of harm to either, if you brought her back now, and frankly I don't understand why you haven't thought of it yourself."
"It's out of the question," Lucien protested. Yes, he had no need of more heirs, not now, but there was still the matter of Jean's first marriage, the matter of her son, the matter of her leaving; those circumstances had not, and would not ever change.
"Is it?" Matthew asked. "You're the head of state. I know it doesn't come naturally to you, but try to think like a politician for once. Right now, you're the kingdom's hero. You're a soldier, a survivor, the man who brought them hope. You've championed the common people at every turn, and they love you."
"They love the story of you," Alice chimed in. "Everyone loves a good story, and yours is...quite compelling."
"The Prime Minister wasn't on your side before," Matthew bore in relentlessly. "He wanted an heir. Well, now he has one. Two, actually. And you're the people's king. If you go to him now, and tell him what you want, why should he stop you?"
"I doubt he's changed his mind-"
"Are you worried about Jack?"
Lucien stared at his friend, feeling as if he'd just been struck with a brick. The conversation had spiraled so quickly he could hardly keep up, and he had not anticipated being faced with such matters on this sunny day. Yes, Lucien was worried about Jean's son; he had mentioned the boy to Matthew once, and his old friend's face had gone grim, and he had known then that there was more to the story than he realized.
"A bit of bad press won't be enough to stop you, not if you've got the government on your side. And you will, if you speak to Sir Patrick. You're the King, for God's sake, and you've got more power than you realize. Why not use it?"
Though Lucien did not enjoy being lectured like a child he could see the right of it, could see that Matthew was thinking only of his king's happiness, and that he had hit upon the truth. With public opinion in his favor and no need of an heir he could present the kingdom with a love story they would relish, he knew. He could bring Jean home, as he so dearly longed to do, could love her and cherish her, for all the rest of his days. He could wake beside her in the morning, and walk with her through the glasshouse he had built for her, could live out his life in peace, surrounded by his girls, all of them. Jean and Li would warm to one another, he knew, and their home could be a happy one. If only he could get Sir Patrick onside.
"What makes you so certain that Sir Patrick would agree?"
"He's a politician," Alice sniffed. "If we let word get out that you had fallen in love but Sir Patrick put a stop to it, he could find his position in danger. It could change the face of politics in this country. He's not a stupid man; he knows how to protect himself, and he'll want to."
"Even if he does agree, what makes you think Jean would accept?"
Lucien's heart was racing. It was not that he did not believe Matthew, or even that he thought his cause was futile; in fact, a wild hope had sprung up within him, and he was ready in that moment to march straight to Sir Patrick to plead his case. But before he did such a thing, before he jumped in with both feet, he felt he had to ask this last question, for it was the one that mattered most. What Lucien wanted, what Sir Patrick would agree to, amounted to nothing more than ashes if Jean remained firm in her conviction that staying away from him was the right choice. Lucien did not even know where she had gone, nor how to go about finding her, and Jean had been away from him for months. Perhaps she had made a new life for herself, he thought then, doubt beginning to creep in on his joy; perhaps she was happier now than she had been before, and wanted no part of him.
"I think she'd agree because I saw her just last month," Matthew told him, and Lucien felt his mouth drop open in shock; how could he have hidden this from me? He wondered, petulant and wounded. "I've seen her several times, and she's miserable and missing you. You have a chance, Your Majesty," Matthew leaned towards him, his hands resting on his cane, his expression earnest, "to make her happy, to make yourself happy. Take it."
Take it. It sounded so easy, when Matthew put it like that. Could it really be so simple; could he really take this chance, speak to Sir Patrick, bring him around, and go racing off after Jean?
She's miserable and missing you.
Those words echoed in his mind, for despite the joy he felt at having Li home with him at last sorrow had lingered in his heart, a grief borne of the absence of love. A love that Matthew was offering him now, a chance to change his future, and bring happiness to himself and the woman he loved most. A chance to make their dream come true.
Can I take this chance? He wondered, his mind racing as Alice and Matthew and Li sat still and watching him.
I won't be able to live with myself if I don't.