Chapter Sixty-Five

Ruth heard the chiming of the clock in the hall outside the throne room telling her it was three o'clock. "That's all for today," she announced, interrupting the men speaking and explaining diagrams at the table in front of her.

The abruptness of Ruth's comments surprised them, and her stomach churned nervously. She didn't like making a fuss, making things difficult for other people. She didn't want to make people cross because of her selfish whims. After all, these men were only doing their job. And it was not an easy job, planning a royal coronation. Her father had been crowned eight years ago, now. And Ruth had been Queen Louisa for eleven months already; the illness and death of the king had been difficult for all involved and the assassination attempt two months earlier had caused a delay in the coronation. Back when her father had become king, Ruth had not been much part of the planning process for the coronation, so this was all very new to her. There was significantly more to organize than she'd anticipated.

But she had to end the meeting now. Everyone had things in hand, and they'd tell her about it later. She trusted that there would be nothing for her to complain about or change, not that complaining and making changes were things that she was apt to do. Now, though, she needed to leave the throne room and make her way upstairs. Three o'clock was the official end to her working day as queen for the time being. It was the one thing she had insisted upon with Jo, and thankfully the Queen's secretary had done a marvelous job ensuring that Ruth got the time she needed.

The coronation committee bowed politely, and Ruth gave them a kind smile in response before she turned and left the room. Jo would show them out. Ruth had other things to do.

She hurried up the stairs in the palace, the place she'd been living full time for an entire year now, a place that had slowly but surely become home. She considered going to her bedroom to change her clothes first—the formal suits she had to wear as queen were not very comfortable—but she decided she didn't want to waste the time. Instead, she went directly through the double doors to the consort's parlor.

Harry looked up as soon as the doors open. His face was a little flushed, and his eyes were tired. But he smiled when he saw her, which never failed to make Ruth feel warm inside. Even still. After more than thirteen years together, just shy of ten years of marriage, Ruth still was struck by his effect on her sometimes. Their lives had changed in so many ways in those thirteen years, starting out as Operational Liaison and Head of Foreign Intelligence to now being Queen and Royal Consort. But even though they had gotten used to each other and their relationship was somewhat routine at times, Ruth was still as in love with him now as she ever was. More, actually. She'd had a crush on her boss, all those years ago. Now she was deeply devoted to her husband, the father of her children. Sometimes, if she thought about it too much, she thought she might weep with the importance of this one wonderful man to her whole world. A man who had taken a bullet for her, who had been willing to die in her place. She was luckier than she liked to contemplate that the bullet meant for Ruth had hit Harry in the knee and not done more damage to either one of them.

"How's it going?" she asked, shaking herself from her foolish romantic reverie.

"Sir Harry is making wonderful progress," the therapist said.

Harry shook slightly with effort and fatigue as he tried to take another step forward. "Not enough progress," he growled. His smile from Ruth's appearance was gone now.

Ruth wasn't about to argue with him about it now. She knew better than anyone how frustrated he was with the fact that his recovery had been so slow. Getting shot in the knee had caused a lot of damage, and he had only been able to stand for a week now. The fact that he was taking a few steps with the aid of a cane and the physical therapist to assist him was very good progress, despite Harry's complaints. But Harry Pearce was not a man who liked to be patient or who liked to admit his own shortcomings. He wanted to be back to being himself. He'd been pushing far more than he should have, and the therapist had to hold him back to keep from doing further damage to his healing leg.

"I won't interrupt you. I just wanted to say hello. I'm going to change my clothes and go to the nursery. We'll be in to see you later," she told him.

Harry just nodded in response. He was starting to get too tired to speak, she could tell. She'd not bother him anymore now. And she'd be sure to cheer him up with a kiss later as well.

Ruth went down the corridor to her own parlor and through to her own bedroom. It was the Queen's Bedroom, but she and Harry shared it, of course. They had gotten used to having separate spaces for the most part, and it was actually sort of nice in a way, particularly now while Harry was in recovery. But she did miss their days at Leister when they were in closer quarters. Ah well. Ruth knew they were lucky to have the time they'd had in those days. No use being too regretful. She'd learned, over the last year, that wishing for things to be different would not make them so and would only serve to depress her. She didn't have the time to be depressed. There were more important things to do.

Right now, though, the most important thing was to change from her suit and shed her outward identity as Queen Louisa and don her long, soft skirt and comfortable cardigan. Dressed like this, she was Ruth. She was Mummy.

Further down the maze of palace hallways was the nursery. When they'd first moved in, Ruth and Harry wanted to be sure that Emmy and Charlotte could share a room again, as it would hopefully make the transition easier on them if they could be together. The girls did not have any problem with the transition at all. They were happy to have a larger nursery to call their own. It wasn't until months later, actually, that Ruth realized it was the same nursery she had played in with her parents when she was a child. They always came to the palace from Leister for the holiday season, and this was the very room that Ruth had stayed in when she was little like Charlotte and Emilia. But Ruth's girls had each other. Ruth herself had spent most of her time as a child alone with her books.

"Mummy!" Emmy shouted as soon as Ruth opened the door to the nursery. Ruth laughed, scooping her five-year-old into her arms. She was a loud little thing. Took after her father in that way, since it certainly wasn't a trait she got from Ruth.

Charlotte was sitting playing a game with the nanny, her little feet swaying on the floor in front of her. She looked up and smiled. "Hello, Mummy," she said sweetly.

Ruth went over to her younger child and got down onto the floor to kiss her forehead. Emilia was still climbing all over Ruth. "Tell me about your day, little loves," Ruth prompted, sitting herself down.

The nanny got up and began tidying some of the girls' toys on the other side of the room. Ruth never wanted a nanny for her children, but it was necessary now. And Ruth was grateful to the woman. The little princesses were happy and well taken care of, and other than wishing she could spend more time with them, Ruth did not have to worry about them.

Emmy chattered incessantly, and Ruth had to interrupt her more than once so that Charlotte could get a word in edgewise. But to her credit, little Emilia was very encouraging of her younger sister, always allowing her to speak and helping her whenever she needed it. Ruth had a feeling that the children would bicker as they got older, as siblings did—Harry assured her of this, as he had grown up with a brother and he had two children of his own, though Ruth herself had been an only child and had no experience with such things—but for the time being, the girls were the best of friends.

Before Ruth knew it, the nursery cuckoo clock announced that it was four o'clock. She was about to remind the girls of the time, but Charlotte beat her to it. "Mummy, can we go see Daddy now?"

Ruth smiled. "Yes, sweet girl, it's time to go see Daddy." She helped the girls up, carrying Charlotte on her hip and holding Emilia's hand with her free one, and took them back down the endless corridors to the consort's parlor.

They found Harry settled on the sofa, propped up with pillows behind his back and under his bad leg. He looked even more exhausted than when Ruth had seen him an hour ago, but he brightened upon their entry.

"Hello, my girls," he greeted. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

Ruth deposited the children gently on the sofa, reminding them to be careful of Daddy's bad leg, and then made her way around to Harry's other side. She leaned in and kissed him softly, once first, and then again a little more insistently. "Hello," she whispered.

He smiled and kissed her again. "Hello," he whispered back.

She went to sit down in an armchair nearby and watched her husband and children together. There was so much outside these doors for her to worry about, so much to do for the coronation and for everything else now that she was queen. But right here, right now, Ruth was happy. And that was all she could ask for.