Part Two
Clarisse sat in her office, staring blankly at her desk. She had to marry again? That was ... unbelievable ... unimaginable! And on top of that horrific thought, without giving anyone in Parliament a chance to refute his claim, that ... that abominable Viscount had insulted her and insinuated that he would put up with her as his wife for duty's sake! PUT UP WITH HER? She had never enjoyed her few obligatory dances with him in the past, she CERTAINLY could not imagine being tied to him in marriage in the future! Naturally, if he had actually asked her, she would have given him a very cold and decisive reply. Yet, following the session of Parliament this morning, Sebastian Motaz had impressed upon her that she could not turn Viscount Mabrey's proposal down without a valid reason. The fact that she didn't like what little she knew of the wretched snake did not count when it came to this marriage.
Like it or not, if she wanted to continue to reign for the next five years, it seemed as though Clarisse would have to abide by Genovian law, however outdated, and marry someone approved by Parliament as a suitable Prince Consort. She was going to have to enter into an arranged marriage again, for her country and for her very identity. Clarisse put her head in her hands and moaned. Wasn't one loveless arranged marriage enough for ANYONE in a lifetime? Her marriage to Rupert may not have been perfect, but neither had it been deplorable. Marriage to the Viscount would be unbearable.
"Your Majesty?" Charlotte's soft, hesitant voice made Clarisse raise her head sharply. "I'm sorry, your Majesty ... is there anything I can do?"
"You heard." It was a statement, not a question.
"Yes, your Majesty," Charlotte's eyes were full of sympathy as she whispered her words. "Please, I'll do anything ..."
"To be honest, Charlotte, there doesn't appear to be anything that anyone can do ..." Clarisse's voice was desolate.
"I ... I'll get some tea, your Majesty," and Charlotte vanished.
Clarisse rubbed her temples, willing away the pain that was coming in waves. She had to THINK! There must be a way out of this ... She looked down at her pale pink suit and wondered if the change out of black had been noticed by any of the members of Parliament. The sudden memory of the last time she had worn a black dress invaded her mind ... and the man who had taken her in his arms and danced with her after informing her that she had worn black for far too long. Joseph. Dear Joseph. She trusted him, and thought of him as a very good friend. If he were here instead of in San Francisco, he would surely be able to help her come up with some sort of plan ...
No. No, that would be tantamount to agreeing with the members of Parliament with regards to their ill-conceived belief that she was not capable of making decisions on her own. She had effectively ruled Genovia alone for two years before Rupert had died, yet that was discounted now that her year of mourning for her late husband was up. Truthfully, she had to wonder how many people in the country had ever known how sick Rupert had been and how much she had taken over in the last years.
Charlotte came back with the tea and poured a cup for Clarisse, who accepted it listlessly. Tea was not really the panacea for all ills she had once believed it to be. She almost wished she drank strong alcoholic beverages ... she rather thought she would like to drink herself into a stupor!
"Your Majesty, the Prime Minister called to say that Parliament will be meeting tomorrow to continue discussing this issue, and he felt that it would be better if you were not in attendance." Charlotte said.
Clarisse's head shot up. "What? And let them make the decision for me? No, thank you!"
"Oh, no! No, they wouldn't make any decisions!" Charlotte sounded distressed. "No, he said he just felt that you didn't need to hear any of the comments which might come up, but it's just a meeting for debate only. No final decisions will be made. Naturally, your attendance is a matter for you to decide. He just wanted to let you know that you did not have to feel obliged to attend."
"Oh, Charlotte, I'm sorry ... I just wish I could ..." Clarisse shook her head, unable to finish.
The phone rang at that point, and Charlotte answered it. "Just a moment, I'll put her Majesty on." Handing the receiver to Clarisse, she said, "Your Majesty, it's Joseph."
"Joseph?" Clarisse waved as Charlotte discreetly left the room again. "Joseph, is something wrong with Mia? Has she been hurt or ..."
"No, your Majesty, everything is fine here," Joseph's voice was firm and clear. "How are things in Genovia?"
"Fine," Clarisse replied automatically, wondering why he was phoning if all was well in America. A long pause greeted her response. "Joseph? Are you still there?"
"Yes," he said. "May I ask why I was given a message to call you immediately if everything is fine?"
"I didn't ... oh. Charlotte must have called you," Clarisse frowned.
"Is there a problem?"
"No, of course not!" lied Clarisse.
"I see. I understand Parliament met this morning." Joseph's statement sounded more like a question.
"Charlotte appears to talk too much," Clarisse said, abandoning her pose that all was well. "What did she tell you?"
"Nothing except that I was to call because of something that came up in Parliament today. Are you going to tell me, your Majesty, or must I guess?"
"I don't think you'd ever guess," she sighed.
"They've decided they don't want to accept Princess Mia as the next in line to the throne?"
"No, that's not it. They have approved of her claim to the throne and are willing to wait until she reaches her majority before crowning her queen."
"But ...?" he prompted her.
Clarisse hesitated, then said, "Well, I understand there is an ancient law on the books which demands that queens be married in order to rule Genovia."
"Princess Mia is only fifteen!" was Joseph's response to that.
"I know. According to this, she must be married by the time she is twenty-one and ready to assume the throne. A queen must have a husband at her side," she repeated, wondering why she was finding it so hard to tell her Head of Security, her friend, about the distasteful 'proposal' she had received that morning.
"I see," There was a long pause again. "Why did Charlotte tell me to phone you if that is all that happened?" Clarisse didn't answer, and suddenly it seemed as though everything fell into place in Joseph's mind. "Don't tell me, your Majesty. Now they want YOU to marry again?"
"Yes," was all Clarisse could say. Suddenly tears were pricking the back of her eyes. She simply would NOT give in to them. Never would she allow Parliament to make her cry!
"Your Majesty, Princess Mia has three more weeks of school before flying to Genovia. I could detail someone else to look after her, to be her babysitter, as it were, and I could come back right away."
Charlotte knocked softly and entered with the diplomatic pouch.
Clarisse smiled slightly at her assistant, then returned her attention to the phone call and demurred, "No, Joseph, stay with Mia. She knows you and likes you and she needs you. It is not necessary for you to return earlier than anticipated. I assure you, I am quite capable of handling matters here."
"But," Joseph began to protest. "Clarisse ..."
"Thank you, Joseph," and Clarisse carefully hung up on him, even as her heart wrenched at the sound of the anguish in his voice as he said her first name. He was very correct much of the time, but Joseph had been Rupert's closest friend next to herself and had been most supportive for Clarisse since her husband's death. They had grown closer together in the years since Rupert first fell ill, and much more so this last year, although Clarisse was convinced that their friendship had gone unnoticed in the view of the country as a whole.
Charlotte's eyes were full of worry as she looked at the queen, but Clarisse determinedly put on a cheerful face and showed by her actions that she had no intentions of discussion the matter of her marriage any further. The two worked on the papers from the diplomatic pouch until the evening meal.
That night, after working all evening in an effort to stop thinking, Clarisse got ready for bed and crawled in, hoping she had tired herself out enough to fall asleep quickly. No such luck. She found herself reliving the moment Viscount Mabrey had smirked at her and announced that he had decided to take her as his wife so that Genovia would be ruled properly by a queen with a man at her side. Shuddering at the thought, Clarisse rolled over and curled up in the fetal position, but her mind wouldn't stop. She had to marry again. She had thought that, with Rupert's death, she would finally be free to be herself. She had allowed herself to dream of what the future might hold for her once Mia was crowned queen in five years. Now she was going to have to submit to being caged in an arranged marriage once more if she wished to continue ruling Genovia, and it just wasn't possible for her to turn her back on her country, whatever her feelings about marriage! For too many years, duty and obedience had been drilled into her.
She thought of her life with Rupert. She had been very fond of him. He had been her dearest friend. As a good friend, he had also riled her to no end. His attitude toward their sons had been the worst, and she still found it hard to forgive him, not least because she and Pierre were still suffering from the backlash. Rupert had felt Pierre had fallen down on his duty, had betrayed the country of his birth and his bloodline by wanting to abdicate. Furious at what he had seen as a rejection of himself, Rupert had discouraged communication between Pierre and the others in the family. Against her own desires, Clarisse had gone along with Rupert's dictates in order not to upset him further in the last years of his life. Since his death, she had found herself too busy and the barriers too long-standing to have changed much, and Pierre was still estranged from the family. Now Clarisse regretted so much of the past. She wondered if it was too late to try to get to know her eldest son again ... now that her baby was gone.
A few hot tears scalded Clarisse's eyes at the thought of Philippe and she angrily dashed them away. Poor Philippe. What a sad life he had had for the last fifteen years of his life! Rupert had never forgiven him for his secret marriage in America, not even after the divorce and Philippe's return to Genovia. Even after Mia's birth, her husband had not relented and had never acknowledged the child. Despite all Philippe had tried to do to prove himself to his father, Rupert had refused to give him more power, instead delegating more and more of the everyday work to Clarisse. Rupert's bizarre will had been the worst blow of all: Clarisse was to continue ruling for one year following Rupert's death. Then, and ONLY then, if Pierre still was of the same mind and adamantly refused the throne, AND if Philippe agreed to marry a suitable consort already chosen by Rupert and approved by Parliament, would Philippe be crowned king. Of course, the year was only nine months along when the accident took Philippe's life .. just when he was beginning to come around and was thinking of settling down and accepting his duty and the bride Rupert had picked out for him.
Clarisse burrowed deeper into her bedclothes, refusing to let the tears come, knowing she had to look unaffected in the morning. Rupert and Philippe had both been two very stubborn men -- too much alike to get along. Now it seemed that Clarisse and Mia were left to bear the brunt of that strife.
To be continued ...