Clarisse settled herself at her desk on Monday morning, slipped on her glasses and picked up her daily schedule: meetings, a luncheon, tea with the Prime Minister, and supper with the University Board of Trustees, and finally a night at the symphony, accompanied by the French Ambassador. Bedtime wouldn't come until well after midnight, and Clarisse found herself wishing away the hours. A small note in Charlotte's handwriting caught her eye at the bottom of the page: "1830 hrs: Joseph departs."
Clarisse suddenly felt faint, dropped the paper and leaned back in her chair. Her heart was pounding, and her palms felt sweaty. So, she thought, it was coming even sooner than she anticipated. 1830 hrs. In 10 and one half hours her life would forever change, he would be gone, and she would be alone. She closed her eyes, fighting back the tears, desperately wanting his departure not to matter.
But it did matter. It was everything. It was also coming without any closure. Where was the usual gaiety and good-natured ribbing that usually accompanied the retirement of one of her staff? Charlotte had told her Joseph had refused all gifts, all parties, he had simply wanted to pack up his office, his suite, say goodbye to a few close friends and drive through the Palace gates without fanfare. It was her duty to let him go with dignity, and she always did her duty.
The day had been the hardest Clarisse could remember in recent times. She went through it on autopilot, smiling when she was supposed to, asking a question at the appropriate time, but her heart was simply elsewhere. How was he spending his day? What was he thinking as he packed up his clothes and personal effects, and his pictures? What would he do with all the pictures of them over the years? She wondered if they'd go in a box, and be forever forgotten.
At five-thirty, Clarisse returned to the Palace from the Prime Minister's Office, and at Charlotte's suggestion had gone to her suite to take a short break before supper. She lay on her bed, sideways, clutching a small pillow, and began sobbing. Olivia had come to the door to check on Her Majesty, and seeing her racked with the pain of a lost love, gently closed the door, tears in her own eyes.
The staff closest to Joseph had gathered outside to see him off. Shades, Charlotte, some of the cooks, the housekeeper, and several others whom he had mentored over the years stood around the car, which was filled with boxes, suitcases and miscellaneous items collected during his service to the Crown. Joseph leaned on the hood of the car, in black as usual, and said his goodbyes to his friends. He had said goodbye to Mia earlier in the day; she'd given him a hug but he could tell she was still quite angry with him. Now all there was left to do was get in his car and drive away from the place that had been his life for so long. It was over, but it was unfinished.
Clarisse got up and moved to her balcony and glanced down to where Joseph's car was parked and watched as he shook hands and waved goodbye to some of the senior staff. As he got into the driver's seat he looked up, somehow sensing she was there. Their eyes locked, but no smile passed between them. Joseph started the car and Clarisse watched him drive out the palace gates. Her knees were weak, and she dropped down on the lounge chair, hugging herself and sobbing.