Chapter 20: Change of Scenery

Birmingham Palace, London, England; July 10th, 1811.

During her last month of pregnancy, Marianne had been ordered to stay in the Palace in case the baby came sooner than expected, despite the London Season roaring around them. It was soon coming to a close, and thus the biggest parties and balls were organized and she had to refuse every single invitation. Everyone was talking about the new heir she was carrying and taking bets on the gender of the baby. If only she could go to just one of the balls! A nurse or a midwife could come with her just in case, but alas, Doctor's orders. The baby was more important than anything, even what would have put a smile on her face or given her a change of scenery for a little while.

Her belly was so big she could barely fit into anything and corsets were unbearable for her. The Princess of England spent her days in her nightgown with a robe over it and either lay in bed with a pile of books next to her, or she paced her terrace up and down in search of some sunshine on her skin.

Very few people visited her for they were all very busy with the London Season, preparing outfits and invitations, practicing their dancing, or simply promenading in Hyde Park with potential suitors all the while talking about her and her baby. Even her dear husband was away most of the time, having to be present at most events.

After a while of pacing up and down the terrace, Marianne's feet had swollen up and she needed to put them up again. If no one was going to visit her, then she might as well go herself. But the moment she opened her wardrobe, she remembered nothing fit her and she could not go out in her nightgown. What would the people say?

"Since when do you care what people think of you, Mari?" she said to herself out loud. "But I cannot dress and no one must know I am–"

A knock on her door startled her and she quickly closed the closet and sat on her favorite fainting couch, her feet up, with a book in her hands. "Come in!" she said, knowing it could only be the doctor coming to check in on her and the baby. The midwife said the baby was quite large. Marianne knew what that meant since her mother had had quite a number of babies and the last one had been very large as well… she could still remember the longest night and the awful cries and how her mother almost did not make it. Which usually made her sweat simply to think about it.

A dress ruffle made her look up from her upside-down book – Doctor Longbourne never wore dresses – and her whole face lit up as she saw her Godmother entering the room. "Lizzy!" she said, dropping the book to the floor as she tried to stand up.

"Mari, please stay seated," Lady Elizabeth Lockhart said, almost running towards the princess. She kneeled before her, took both her hands in hers, and kissed them before looking up. "Oh, Mari, how are you?" she asked. "I had no idea you were locked in this room like a vulgar criminal."

Marianne frowned. "I am not–"

"Prince James wrote to me just this morning, begging me to keep you company," she explained. "He mentioned you were feeling quite alone. Is that right?"

Marianne nodded before bursting into tears. Elizabeth gathered her in her arms and rocked her gently, murmuring soothing words in her ear and drawing big circles on her back with her hand. Mari had not cried like this in a very long time. She was now the Princess of England: she must not cry. But here? With Lizzy and no one else to see her and judge her? She let all of her unshed tears flow; all of her fears, her insecurities, her pain, her joy, and her loneliness. Aunt Lizzy was here now, all would be well.

"Oh, my dear, sweet Mari," Elizabeth said once her tears and her sobs has subsided enough for her to speak. "Had I known earlier how alone you were, I would have come sooner."

"But what about the Season?" Mari said. "Surely you have to attend everything you are invited to."

"Nonsense," she said. "You are far more important to me than all of the balls and diamonds and dresses in the world combined, my dear." She paused and sat on the seat beside the princess. "When we invited you to London with us, all those years ago, I promised your mother I would look after you for her. I have been lacking in that the past few years because I thought you would be well taken care of in the Palace. I was wrong."

"No, you are not wrong, Lizzy," Mari said. "Everyone has been so good to me. But with me carrying the next heir to the throne, they are all tiptoeing around me as if I am a fragile vase that may break if they so much as blow on me."

Elizabeth nodded, understanding. "Well, you are stronger than they think." She squeezed Marianne's hands in hers and looked around the room. "When was the last time you put on a real dress and left this chamber?" By Marianne's look, Elizabeth understood it had been quite some time. "Very well, we shall put on a dress and go promenading in the Palace gardens."

"But–"

"No buts, dearest." She went to the closet Marianne had closed moments later and got out a vibrant pink dress. It was a good thing the dress they wore were only cinched under the bust so it could accommodate a large pregnant belly. Mari did not say another word as she let her godmother gently take off her robe and nightgown and slip the pink dress over her head.

"But what about a corset?" she dared ask.

"Nonsense," Elizabeth replied. "You do not need one." Of course, she could not properly lace the dress for there was not enough fabric for the last month of pregnancy, so she laced it loosely and made the Princess wear a light shawl that would cover her back and keep her dignity intact. She also handed her a pair of white lace gloves and brushed her long blond hair before braiding it down her back and securing a bonnet on her head. "There," she said with a proud smile. "You look wonderful, Mari."

Marianne smiled. She did feel better. Wonderful would not quite be the word she would have chosen for herself at that moment, but yes, it did feel rather good to be truly dressed for once.

One look at the princess' feet and Elizabeth only gave her some slippers to wear before they headed outside. They walked slowly, Lady Lockhart supporting Marianne's back with one hand and holding her hand with the other. Together, they made it outside in the gardens and Marianne sighed, closing her eyes as the sun shone on her face and arms. She placed her free hand on her belly and felt a strong kick from the baby. "Ow!" she said with a smile on her face. "Lizzy, it is kicking, put your hand here!"

Elizabeth eagerly obeyed and felt the baby kick through the dress. "A strong baby," she said, her voice full of unsaid emotions. She had never had a baby herself – though they tried for many years – but she had felt all of Marianne's mother's babies, being there for all of them. "I still remember when your mother was pregnant with you," she said softly. "She had the same look of joy and apprehension on her face, and held her belly just like you."

Marianne smiled. "I should write to her," she said. "I told her months ago I was with child, but she could not come because there was too much work on the farm, and papa was counting on her for many things." She paused. "I do hope she will come to London before the baby arrives… I do not think I can do this without her, Lizzy."

Elizabeth held her goddaughter close as they sat on a low wall to relieve her back. "I shall write to her the moment we get back inside and urge her to come," she said. "Perhaps she also thinks that you are well taken care of by the Palace."

Marianne nodded. "Thank you." They sat together in the summer sun for a while until they heard footsteps in the gravel coming closer and growing louder by the second. They both looked up.

"Your Royal Highness," Lady Lockhart said, curtsying to the prince himself.

"Good afternoon, Lady Lockhart," he replied. "Thank you for coming so quickly. Mari," he said turning to his wife with a smile and taking one of her hands in his. "You look lovely. How are you feeling?"

"Much better," she said. "I really needed to get out and to be with someone." She looked up at her handsome husband. "Thank you."

James could not resist the smile that bloomed on his lips and he leaned in to kiss her. When he broke the kiss, he whispered: "Soon, we shall be promenading here as a family, just the three of us."

Marianne nodded and blushed. They had wanted this baby for so long and now they were counting the days until they could meet him. Or her.

The prince carried her back inside to her chambers – her feet were now excruciatingly painful – as Lady Elizabeth Lockhart followed a few steps behind to give them some privacy. Upon arriving in her chambers, he gently settled her on the bed, propped up her legs on a large pillow, and sat next to her, softly stroking her hair, until she fell into a peaceful sleep. In the corner of her room at her desk, Elizabeth was writing a letter to her friend Caroline Barrington:

Dearest Caroline,

Your daughter is about to burst, the baby is due very soon. It is quite large and I fear for her life and for the baby's. Please come as soon as you can, she will be needing you.

Yours faithfully,

Elizabeth Lockhart.

/ / /

Pavilion Gardens, Brighton, England. July 26th, 1815.

James was tapping his foot on the ground, anxiously waiting for the last lady to join him on the patio. Henry had only written that she wished to promenade in the Pavilion gardens and the prince was grateful for such an easy outing. At least they did not have to go boating and risk drowning – again. They could simply walk the path around the lake and be done with it. At long last, it would be over and he could soon go back to his normal life. Right?

"Your Royal Highness," a soft voice said, startling him from his musings. "A pleasant day is it not?"

"Yes," he replied, tipping his hat to Lady Priscilla d'Herblay. She was wearing a pink gown with a light matching jacket and a curious locket around her neck, as well as no gloves at all. His gaze went down to her hands, curious.

"I am not fond of gloves," she explained, pink filling her cheeks. "But I do have a pair if you wish me to wear them…" she trailed off, reaching in her small reticule.

"No, that will not be necessary," James replied. "You do not like gloves, I do not like dancing slippers."

"Then what do you wear when dancing?" she asked, for people only danced in dancing slippers. Except for Lady Yvaine, who could dance wearing riding boots to protect her toes– the thought made him smile but he recovered quickly.

"I seldom dance, Lady d'Herblay." He motioned to the path leading away from the patio with his arm, drawing a wide demi-circle. "Shall we?"

The lady nodded her head in response and walked ahead of him until he had caught up with her. They walked slowly side by side, barely exchanging a word but simply enjoying the morning air, the birds singing in the trees, and the breeze on their faces. James had his hands clasped behind his back while Priscilla's were clutching her reticule. Some of her blond strands of hair had escaped her bonnet around her face, framing her soft eyes and lips.

"Your last name vaguely reminds me of something," James said. "Is your father very present in the London Society?"

"Yes," she replied. "My father is the Viscount d'Herblay and a member of Parliament."

"Ah, yes," James said. "I knew I had heard that name before. I believe he once was the Ambassador of France?"

"That is quite right," she said, smiling. "Your memory is remarkable, Your Highness."

"Thank you," he said, rather proud of himself. "I do like to keep tabs on the political side of London life." He paused as he helped her walk over a small bridge. "And your mother?"

"The Viscountess d'Herblay, of course," she replied. "She is also the daughter of French aristocrats, and my father's mother was the daughter of a French Baron. I am quite French indeed."

"Quite interesting, indeed," he said. "I believe you have spent many a summer in France, then?"

"Oh yes," she replied. "And I am also distantly related to Marie-Antoinette, wife of Louis XVI."

"Of course," James said politely, though he had his doubts since Marie-Antoinette was Austrian. Though she had had fifteen siblings, none of them lived in France or had children in France. James knew because his sister had married a French prince, though, with Napoleon's recent abdication, the government in France was somewhat of a precarious situation. But it would have been rude to openly contradict her, so he let her talk about her lineage which was becoming more and more absurd the more she talked about it. Was she really telling the truth?

"Oh look!" she suddenly said, stopping her bizarre story mid-sentence. "Are these ducks not the most delightful thing you have ever seen?" She was pointing at a mother duck who had four little ducklings paddling behind her and James had to admit that it was cute. A small smile appeared on his lips as Priscilla was admiring the little feathery family on the lake.

A sudden pang of jealousy pierced his heart: by now, if Mari was still living by his side, they could have had two children, and he would still have his wife. The smile left his face only to be replaced by a frown. Priscilla did not notice the sudden change in the prince for she was still talking about the little ducks. She suggested they sit a moment on the grass to watch them and simply enjoy the silence of the lake.

James agreed though his only wish at the moment was to be alone and go for a fast gallop over the cliffs. He also did not think they would be enjoying the silence of their surroundings if the lady continued talking nonsense. But to his surprise, she did not say a word and simply sat there, content. Slowly, his tense shoulders relaxed muscle by muscle as he let their surroundings calm him.

"It really is a lovely day," she said softly, her eyes closed and her face towards the sun, taking in the morning heat from it. She was completely oblivious to him and his inside war with himself, but it was all the better: he did not wish to talk about it.

After a long moment simply sitting there not talking, James had pins and needles in his legs and he politely suggested they make their way back to be in time for luncheon. Priscilla agreed and she stood up with his help as he held out his hand to her. They walked back in silence, and when they reached the patio, Lady Priscilla d'Herblay curtsied.

"I thank you for this pleasant walk, Your Highness."

"I thank you as well," he said, tipping his hat to her. She walked away after a quick glance at his face and a soft smile, and James thought that for all her peculiar stories, her manners were quite impeccable, indeed.

/ / /

Brighton, England. July 27th, 1815.

"Oh, please, Your Highness," Jemima begged, "do come with us to Brighton! It would be so much fun."

"Oh, yes, do come," Louise agreed. The two other ladies present nodded too but did not say a word. They were all climbing in a carriage to go shopping in Brighton.

James thought for a moment, but he would welcome some time away from everyone else, and the four ladies present were fine ladies indeed: Miss Jemima Delaney was sure to bring on some fun; Dame Beitris McLeod was a true mystery he wished to uncover; Lady Letitia Davies did propose to him directly on their first outing so that might still be interesting; and Lady Louise Grierson was a calm refuge in any storm. Quite an interesting mix, if he had to say so himself.

"Alright," he agreed. "Is there room for a fifth passenger or shall I ride alongside you?"

"I am sure we can make some room for you, Highness," Louise said softly.

He helped them all climb in, holding each their gloved hand while they stepped on the stool, and followed in himself. Beitris, Louise, and Jemima had all squeezed themselves on one side, leaving the other side for Letitia and James with plenty of space in between them. The coach rumbled forward as they headed to town.

"So, what is the occasion?" James asked. "I did not know shopping in Brighton was an everyday activity."

"It is not," Jemima replied for everyone in her thick Irish accent. "But lady Valery Windsor – I like to call her Val," she added in a low voice, "said there was going to be a ball in a few days, so we're all here to get some things we do not have."

"I see," James said. "What else did Valery tell you?" He knew she would not divulge his secret but he needed to make sure.

"She said we would be practicing with other young men– I think Sir Henry mentioned soldiers from the royal guard?" Louise said. "Because whoever marries you will have to attend more than one ball, of course, so we need to see what a London Ball feels like."

"Mmh," was all James said.

"I need a pair of opera gloves," Jemima said. "Is that what you call them? The extra long ones?" she asked Letitia who simply nodded.

"I am in need of some fabric," Louise said. "I wish to embellish one of my dresses for the occasion. Will you help me find the perfect color, Highness?"

"Er, I am not certain I am the most qualified for this," he said. "But I can try."

"Thank you." The smile that bloomed on her lips, paired with the pink cheeks made him smile as well.

"And you, Lady Davies? What shall you be needing?"

"Slippers," she said. "The ones I brought with me are worn out from previous balls, and I do not wish to make a fool of myself by falling in the middle of everyone."

"Very wise," he said. "May I recommend reinforced slippers to protect your toes?"

Jemima snorted but quickly covered her mouth. "I am sorry," she said. "Lady Yvaine told us of how she protected her toes from you." Everyone in the carriage laughed, even Lady Davies who was rather serious the whole time.

"I shall think about it," she replied.

A few minutes later, they were in town, and the carriage stopped at the beginning of the main street, with the town to their right and the sea to their left. "And you, Lady McLeod?" James asked as he was about to step out of the vehicle.

"I simply wished for a moment away from the Pavilion," she said scottishly. "Though I said I needed gloves as well."

James snorted and went out to help all the ladies walk out of the cubicle without tripping. Louise and Letitia popped open parasols while Jemima and Beitris secured their bonnets before making for the stores. James stayed behind with the two other ladies, walking slowly.

"Lady Labhaoise Grierson," he said, enunciating her Irish name to perfection. "I believe there is a Modiste down that street where you might find what you need." He paused, discreetly pointing ahead of them, and looked at his other companion. "I believe you might also find slippers there, Lady Davies."

"Most gracious of you, Your Highness," she replied. "I might have to go see a proper shoemaker to have them reinforced to preserve my toes if I am to dance with you, sir." The side smile she offered revealed her teasing.

James laughed softly. "I doubt I will be dancing much–"

"Oh, but you must!" Lady Grierson said. "Lady Valery said you will be dancing with each one of us at least once."

"Did she, now?" James sighed. "Very well."

Just then, they had arrived at the Modiste where Jemima was already going over gloves, but Beitris was nowhere to be seen. When asked about the petite Scottish woman, Jemima simply shrugged. "She mentioned something about ice cream or cakes, I think."

Louise and Letitia shared a knowing smile but did not comment on it. James did not ask for further detail either. He looked around to see if Clinton was following or not, but he was nowhere to be seen. He understood then. "I see," he said, unable to stop the little smile from appearing on his face. His plan was starting to work even before his friends arrived.

The small group stayed for a while at the modiste as the three ladies discussed what they should be buying. James stayed to the side, not wanting to intrude too much into the small store that was usually only visited by ladies. He felt quite ill-at-ease among the ribbons, fabrics, and silk slippers.

He was toying with a small bead on a purple fabric near the window when Lady Grierson walked over with three rolls of fabric in her arms. "Your Highness, may I ask for your advice?"

"Er, yes, of course," he replied to be polite though he had no idea what those colors even were called.

"Oh, thank you so much," she said, relieved. "The girls cannot even agree on one, so maybe you can settle it for me." James nodded so she continued. "So, my dress is this exact color," she explained, pointing at the soft pink in the middle, "and I wish to embellish the bodice but I do not know if I should use cream or silver."

James looked at the three rolls of fabric, completely at loss about what to say or decide. "As my sister always said," he replied inventing something on the spot, "when in doubt, always chose silver."

"Thank you," she said, bobbing a tiny curtsy. "Silver it is, then." She turned on her heels and joined the other ladies, putting back the pink and cream fabrics and keeping the silver. While she was talking with the modiste to decide on the length she would need, James stepped outside before the other two could also ask for his help. What a ridiculous notion! What did he know about colors and fabrics? Marianne would have been much better suited for the task. Then again, if she was there, they would not be in this situation in the first place.

One after the other, they came out of the shop with brown paper parcels tied up with strings to carry back to the Pavilion. And as they were headed back to the carriage with a biscuit cone filled with ice cream – a novelty – to eat as they went, Clinton and Beitris showed up out of nowhere as if they had been there the whole time… Of course, the others knew otherwise, but no one said anything. Yet.

/ / /

Pavilion, Brighton, England. July 28th, 1815.

As the end of the month neared, James tried not to think of what it meant. For sure, his daughter's fourth birthday was coming up, but that also meant that his wife's death anniversary was also coming up, and on the same day.

"James," Valery said, coming over. "I know what you are thinking, but you cannot afford to let yourself go this year."

James snorted. "Are you really the one telling me this? After almost jumping from the cliffs a few weeks ago?"

Valery was silent for a moment. "That was an accident, it will not happen again."

"Of course." But James doubted it: Valery loved the cliffs too much for that. "I will still need to take the day off– Val," he quickly said before she argued with him. "I need that and you know it."

She took a deep breath and shook her head. "Please, James," she begged. "It is your only daughter's birthday, and if you do not attend, it will break her heart. She is old enough now to understand these things."

The prince was torn. On one hand, he knew Valery was right, of course; but on the other hand, he could not let that day go by without spending time alone with his wife, at least in thought. "Fine. Give me the morning, then. I shall be here in the afternoon."

Valery nodded and walked away. She would also need some time to mourn her dear friend on this somber day, but she would do it in private, at another time. James knew it and he knew she understood him.

But for now, he still had the whole day ahead of him and nothing whatsoever planned. He could go for a ride; he could write down the names of the ladies and list the pros and cons of marrying each one of them and try to pair up them with some of his friends, already; he could go hunting with Clinton; he could go to the Gentlemen's club for some political conversations and a brandy; he could–

"Your Highness?" a soft feminine voice said, pulling him out of his reverie.

He looked up to see an open-roof carriage with three ladies in it with Henry in the middle of the group, and Lady Diana Gray on horseback – riding like a man – next to the vehicle. It was she who had spoken. "Good morning," he offered.

"Would you like to join us?" she said.

"Where to?" the prince asked, looking over the ladies in the carriage. There was Miss Rowena Talbot, Miss Cerys Tudor, and Lady Dorothea Herbert.

"The cliffs," Cerys said. "Sir Windsor said it was the most beautiful place around and he was going to show us."

James looked at Henry who shrugged with a small smile, and to the ladies who were awaiting his answer. James thought a ride to the cliff would be the perfect thing to keep his mind off the gloomy day coming up the next day. "Of course," he said. "Go on ahead, I shall go have my horse saddled and I will join you."

Diana Gray smiled widely. "How wonderful!" she said. "We shall see you soon, then." And with that, she spurred her horse and the group went on ahead, leaving him behind. At least now he had something to do. He headed to the stables and the grooms there scrambled to their feet to get his horse ready. In just a few minutes, he was on his way to the cliffs, trotting at a good pace so he would join the others quickly.

He saw them on the path ahead of him for a carriage was quite slow indeed compared to a horse with a single rider. He spurred his own animal and soon enough he was riding alongside Lady Gray and the carriage.

"Ah, there you are, sir," she said. "Shall we race to the cliffs?"

"I bet James gets there first," Henry offered.

"That is only if he cannot catch up!" Diana said, sending her horse in a fast gallop and getting an important head start on the prince. He tutted, tipped his hat to the carriage travelers, and followed Diana toward their destination. And to his surprise, she was faster than he had anticipated, and an excellent rider as well.

He urged his horse faster and joined her, galloping side by side until they reached the cliffs. By that time, Diana was laughing joyfully because of the crazy ride. "I had not raced with anyone in quite a long time," she said when she had caught her breath.

"You do that often?"

"I used to race on anything with my brother before we came to England."

James nodded. "You seem to have been freer before."

"Oh, yes," she agreed. "No offense, but London society can be quite binding."

"Indeed." James sat still on his saddle, looking over the sea, beyond them. In the far distance, a ship was slowly making its way to France, all sails to the wind. But surprisingly enough, he did not have the urge to be on it, leaving the Selection behind. Now that he had met all of the ladies and he was counting the days until his friends came to his aid, he was eager to make himself matchmaker of his private little Season.

"A penny for your thoughts, Your Highness?"

James looked at the blonde lady beside him and snorted. "I am afraid my thoughts are worth much more than that," he teased. "But if you must know, I was simply enjoying the view. Did you notice the ship over there?" He motioned the general direction with his chin for it was extremely rude to point at anything and Diana followed his gaze.

"Ah, yes," she said. "I did not see it at first. This place is beautiful!"

The prince nodded but then turned his head when he heard the carriage approaching with the ladies and Henry laughing about something or another, the wind carrying the sounds towards him and Lady Gray. The vehicle stopped near them and one by one, the ladies climbed out of it, helped by his Lordship. James jumped off his horse to be at the same level as everyone.

"Oh, Louise was right!" Dorothea Herbert said. "This place is enchanting!"

"It is," Rowena said, holding her bonnet for the wind had picked up quite in strength by now. "I have not traveled much out of London," she admitted, "so this must be one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen…"

"I agree," Cerys said, "though the cliffs in Wales can quite compare to these." She paused. "There is such a feeling of freedom up here, with the wind and the waves below. If only we were birds and could simply fly off into the horizon…"

James nodded and smiled but did not say anything.

As it turned out, the group had taken a picnic with them and they sat in the grass to enjoy the food and the wine, talking about travels, and places, and simply enjoying the moment. James was glad for the change of scenery indeed…

Hello! thanks for stopping by and reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

with the last official date done and two impromptu group dates, James had his hands full! the next chapter will be quite bittersweet, but after that, THE DUDES ARE COMING! yay!

so, thanks for reviewing and for your patience! with only 300-600 words a day, I'm not going very fast, lol... bye! see ya next time!