A/N: I did take the general idea of the floorplan here from The Crown, with a few of my own embellishments.
6 December 1959
"I believe the King wanted to show you this himself," Alice said as Jean rose slowly from her chair, "but needs must. You know how busy he is."
"Of course I do," Jean answered. Of course she knew he was a busy man, that his time was not his own. She knew it better than most, and she understood it, and she would not hold it against him; he had a kingdom to run, and what sort of wife, what sort of Queen would she be, if she insisted he put her own needs before the needs of their people? Still, though, it stung just a bit; she and Lucien and Li had no sooner settled themselves in the King's personal parlor with a pot of tea than Alice had come for them, had told Lucien in her usual brusque tone that he was needed for a meeting with Sir Patrick, and that Li's tutor had come looking for her. No matter how momentous this day might be for Jean personally, the castle carried on oblivious to her desire for a moment alone with her fiance and his daughter. She wanted to catch her breath, wanted to hold Lucien's hand, wanted to speak softly to Li, wanted to catch a glimpse of her soon-to-be-granddaughter, but such a kindness was not in the offing; with Li and Lucien dispatched Alice had taken custody of Jean, and taken over her introduction into her new life as the King's fiance.
"You'll need your own personal secretary, of course," Alice continued, holding the door open and gesturing for Jean to step out into the corridor. "You'll have your own schedule to keep, your own engagements and patronages. I'll step in for now, though. Wouldn't want to leave you all on your own."
"I'd be very grateful-"
"I've taken the liberty of booking a meeting for us tomorrow morning, after breakfast. We'll go over the schedule in more detail then. For now, though, let's get you settled."
"All right," Jean sighed. Alice had hardly given her a chance to get a word in edgewise, but she supposed she ought to expect such treatment in the future; a Queen's life was not her own, no more than a King's. At least Alice would be here to help her, in these early days; they had known one another for quite some time, and always got on well together, and if someone had to take charge of her education, she was glad it was someone she knew already, and trusted.
"Until the wedding, you'll be staying in a suite downstairs, and the butlers are overseeing the transfer of your things there now. After the wedding, though, you'll be moved into the Queen's suite. We're in the process of cleaning and updating it for you now," they had hardly traveled ten feet down the corridor, but Alice had stopped, and was rummaging her trouser-pocket, eventually retrieving a large, golden key. "It isn't completely ready yet, but I thought you might like to have a look."
Of course Jean was eager to peak behind that door; in all the years she'd spent in this place, learning its secrets and tending to it with all the loving care her mother's heart could muster, Jean had never set foot inside the Queen's suite. No one had; King Thomas had ordered it closed after his wife's death, and the door had never again been unlocked, not even for cleaning. These rooms had belonged to Lucien's beloved mother, had stood silent and holy as a mausoleum since her death, but now these rooms, like the beautiful ring upon her finger, had been given to her, a gesture of love from the man she adored. She wanted to be grateful, and she was, but she could not help but feel as if she had just been handed a legacy, and she wondered if the burden would prove too heavy for her to carry.
"King Lucien was very clear about what he wanted for these rooms, and we're trying to honor his wishes," Alice told her, and in the next breath they had stepped through the door, and Jean could not help but gasp as she gazed around in wonder.
The main door opened onto a vast, sprawling parlor. The white carpet was thick and plush, and the walls were pale pink, the scent of fresh paint floating through the air. The parlor had been emptied of all furniture, but there was a gilt-framed mirror hanging above the ancient stone fireplace, and the walls were decorated with paintings, most of them landscapes and studies of flowers, bright pops of color everywhere she looked. The windows were tall and broad, the curtains heavy and a lovely shade of green, floral patterns embroidered on them in golden thread.
"You have your own office, through that door," Alice said, gesturing towards one of the heavy wooden doors to the left, "and the bedroom and private bathroom are through here," she pointed to another door, smiling at Jean's obvious appreciation for the room in front of her. "Go on, have a look."
And of course Jean did; the parlor was bigger by far than her old bedroom, and she could only imagine what further luxury waited for her behind the closed doors that lined the periphery. The bedroom did not disappoint; the walls in here were pale blue - also freshly painted - and the bed had been installed, though it was otherwise as bare of furnishings as the parlor had been. That bed; Jean stared at it for a long moment, with her fingertips pressed against her lips as her thoughts began to race. The frame itself was wooden, huge and hand-carved and heavy; just the thought of the amount of effort it must have taken to haul that thing up the stairs and into this room was daunting. The mattress was thick and plush, piled high with pillows, and the navy blue coverlet was heavy and warm. There were curtains, currently tied back, which could be drawn down to hide it entirely from view; those, too, were navy, and embroidered with a pattern of creeping golden vines.
"My goodness," Jean said, for in truth no other words would come to her. That's the place where we'll sleep, he and I, she thought; we'll draw those curtains and hide ourselves from the world, and be happy. Just the idea of it, sharing her bed with Lucien, sent a shiver coursing down her spine. But there was something odd about this room, and so she gazed around, trying to put her finger and what troubled her so. There were no windows, but Jean supposed there would be light enough in the parlor, and surely lamps would be brought in once the rest of the furniture was installed. The door leading to her private bathroom was tucked away in the corner, and that was all for the good, but there was no closet, and though she supposed they'd give her a bureau she imagined it would have to be quite large, to house all the clothes a Queen might need.
"Now, we do plan to install two end tables, on either side of the bed," Alice told her. "But I know you like to read. Would you like a bookshelf, as well?"
"Yes, please," Jean answered at once. Her own collection was quite small, but she supposed with the weight of the crown behind her she might be able to grow it, in time, and she liked that idea, very much. We can lay in that bed together, reading our books with our heads on the same pillows, she thought, smiling. She longed, with everything she had, for such quiet moments, moments when they could simply be Lucien and Jean, two people in love with one another, far from the responsibilities and burdens of their daily lives. "And a bureau?" she added, remembering her earlier concern.
"Oh, you won't have to worry about that," Alice assured her. "There's a whole room somewhere just for the Queen's clothes. They'll be brought to you each morning, and your maids will help you dress."
"Surely that's not necessary," Jean protested at once. Oh, she knew that the King had attendants whose sole purpose was to see to his clothing, but really she thought the whole thing rather silly. She'd been dressing herself since childhood, and she hardly needed help. And besides, the only person she wanted to see her in her underthings was Lucien. What if it's someone I know, someone I used to work with? The very idea was mortifying.
"I think you know that it is," Alice told her, not unkindly. There was understanding in her expression, compassion, even, as if she had known already that Jean would struggle with the changes her new station would bring. "You aren't a housekeeper anymore, Jean. Your whole life is going to change."
"Am I supposed to have a meeting with my staff every morning, to decide what I'm going to wear?" Surely Lucien didn't have such problems; he always wore a suit, and though he preferred shades of blue to black he was otherwise indifferent to what he wore. It wouldn't matter one bit to him what outfit his valet brought to him in the morning, but it mattered to Jean; the rules for women's clothes were rather less forgiving than for men, after all.
"Once you get to know your ladies, it won't have to be nearly so formal," Alice assured her. "You'll grow used to it, in time."
"I suppose I'll have to," she answered, trying not to sound too glum about the whole thing.
"Now, there's one more thing I need to show you," Alice said, and then they were leaving the bedroom behind, walking back out into the sun-drenched pinkness of the parlor. It was an altogether happier room, that parlor, but Jean supposed that the bedroom would seem much more welcoming, once Lucien was there beside her.
"This door," she led Jean to the far right side of the parlor, "leads to the King's suite. Once you're married, and living in here, this door will be open, and you can open or close it as you wish."
Another golden key emerged from Alice's pocket, and then she swung the door wide. This time Jean stepped into a strange, in-between sort of space; there were two standing mirrors and two dressing tables, one set on either side of the room, and the plush carpet led from her door to another. Alice unlocked the far door as Jean stood rooted to the spot, hardly listening while her friend carried on with her tour; what is this place, she asked herself, and why are there so many doors?
"This space is primarily used for dressing, obviously. King Thomas used the King's Suite, and kept the dressing room open, though the door we just walked through was closed. King Lucien preferred his old suite, but now that you're to be married he's decided to move in here."
Alice flung open the door in front of her, and they were stepping once more into the King's parlor, where they had begun their journey. The tea service had been neatly cleared from the small table around which Jean and Lucien and Li had gathered only a bare few minutes before. This room was furnished, unlike her own; perhaps, she thought, Lucien was content with his father's things and did not wish to change them. The walls were painted a deep navy, and hung with paintings of seascapes and a portrait of King Thomas and Queen Genevieve, and a young Lucien. The many chairs and couches were comfortable and plush, but a sense of unease had settled low in Jean's belly. Her fears were proved justified in a moment, for Alice had continued to move in a straight line, until a last she reached another door.
"And this," she said, unlocking that door, too, "is the King's bedroom."
That unease began to morph into anger as Jean marched across the parlor, to join Alice there at the door to the King's bedroom. It was almost identical to the bedroom in the Queen's suite, with its pale blue walls and canopied bed, its navy coverlet and embroidered curtains. The room itself was utterly inoffensive, except that it was separated from Jean's bedroom by four doors and an ocean of space.
"Alice," she said, trying hard to control the rising tide of her emotions. "Are you telling me the king is supposed to sleep in one room, and the queen in another?"
She truly did not know, had not even realized until this moment that they intended to keep her and Lucien separate. There had, after all, been no Queen in residence during the long years of her tenure, and no one had spoken of her, and Jean had never once even glimpsed inside her rooms. Until now, Jean had assumed the Queen's suite would be no more than a parlor for entertaining guests, an office to work in, a private place to bathe. It had never occurred to her that she would be set apart from Lucien, that it would require so much effort for them to reach one another, and she liked it not one bit.
"He didn't warn you, did he." It was not a question. Alice was frowning, clearly made uncomfortable by the turn the conversation had taken. "It's always been this way, Jean. The King and Queen can decide amongst themselves if they want to...well...and they both have their own private space."
Jean didn't want private space. She didn't want each evening to turn into a series of maneuvers - your bed or mine? - did not want to ever see Lucien close one of those doors between them. She did not want to lie in that vast bed alone, thinking of the nights he'd chosen to come to her, and wondering why this wasn't one of them. She did not want to have to ask for her husband. Her hands began to shake, and so she clasped them together in front of her, trying not to take her ire out on poor Alice, who was, after all, only the messenger.
We're going to have a long talk about this, she thought as she stood and stared at the king's bed. A very long talk.