Part Six
Olivia fussed around Clarisse the next morning as she readied herself for her meeting with Viscount Mabrey. "Your Majesty, you REALLY should not be wearing those four-inch heels! You know how they bother your back if you stand too long."
"I am not planning to stand too long," Clarisse said calmly, checking herself in the full length mirror. She had deliberately chosen to wear that pair of shoes so that she would be able to look at the Viscount eye to eye. Perhaps this way, she would be even taller than he was, and he would not find it so easy to intimidate her. She rather hoped that she might daunt him, but she realized that that was a rather vain hope.
The meeting had been scheduled for the foyer, as Clarisse did not want to have any reminders of his presence in any of her favourite places in the palace. She also thought he might say something utterly absurd such as an accusation that she had taken refuge behind her desk or on the throne to avoid him.
"You look lovely, your Majesty, although perhaps a little dressed up for the audience in the throne room," Priscilla volunteered timidly.
"Thank you," Clarisse smiled at both her ladies' maids. "The people have come to expect that I make an effort on these occasions, which is why I must don a tiara as well."
Charlotte knocked on the door and informed Clarisse that the Viscount's car was just coming to the steps of the palace.
"Thank you, Charlotte," and Clarisse swept out ahead of her aide, leaving Olivia and Priscilla shaking their heads behind her.
"Your Majesty," Charlotte panted as she struggled to keep up with Clarisse's pace, "J-Joseph said the Viscount has just stepped in the doors."
"Inform him that we will be there directly," was Clarisse's calm response. "I do not need to be announced."
In moments, Clarisse and Charlotte were in the foyer where Viscount Mabrey was pacing around, muttering to himself.
"Ah, your Majesty!" he bowed, and Clarisse hesitated only a moment before putting out a hand which he kissed.
Suppressing the urge to wipe the touch of his lips off her skin, Clarisse eyed him gravely. "You wished to see me, Viscount Mabrey?"
He attempted a smile. "Does not every prospective bridegroom eagerly await an audience with his betrothed?"
"We are not betrothed yet, sir," Clarisse responded distantly, not a hint of a smile in her face or eyes.
"Ah, but that is just a matter of time, is it not? After all, your Majesty, you yourself must acknowledge that I did not write the laws of Genovia. It is not MY fault that women are inferior to men and therefore need a man at their side to survive." His voice was oily. "You surely must agree that, as my wife, you will have the best Genovia can offer. It is only what you deserve, after all."
Clarisse wondered only if he meant himself as the best, or if he hadn't realized exactly what he was saying. She sincerely hoped that the Viscount was NOT the best Genovia could offer, or her beloved country was in deep distress indeed! She murmured something non-committal, looking at him levelly. That, she saw instantly to her great delight, annoyed him immensely.
The Viscount became very uneasy when he saw how calm she was. He had hoped to provoke her enough that she would do or say something that he might use as leverage to force the marriage through. If only that wretched Rupert had beaten the independence out of her when he had the chance! Well, perhaps he could still find a way to intimidate her ... her and that drab little secretary who scurried around after her! Scowling at Charlotte until she tried to efface herself in the far corner of the room, Viscount Mabrey turned his attention back to the queen.
He began employing the tactics which had always worked on timid women like his late wife. He gave Clarisse a long, slow, sweeping look and, folding his arms, walked around her in a circle, coming so close at times she could feel the brush of his body against her skirt. Clarisse swallowed, but showed no other sign of her unease.
"Women are all alike," he goaded her at last, wanting to break through the layer of ice and disdain she had assumed to protect herself. "You like the power you have to make a man ache to his very core, don't you? You like knowing that you can make him want ... want, even though he knows he should stay away. You secretly want me, don't you? ADMIT IT!" he barked.
Clarisse suppressed her jump of surprise, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was intimidating her. Her eyes narrowed as she gave him a look which told him exactly what she thought of him, dismissing him as someone not worthy of her attention.
Joseph entered the foyer quietly and assumed a position by the door near Charlotte. Clarisse saw them exchange glances and realized that Charlotte must have asked him to come in. A faint smile crossed her face and she tipped her head slightly in acknowledgment when her eyes met his.
A frown crossed the Viscount's face as, incensed, he realized that Joseph was back in Genovia and no longer in America where he was supposed to have safely been just yesterday. "You, sirrah! What are YOU doing here? I THOUGHT you were in America protecting the sweet little princess!"
Clarisse shuddered inside at the ugly tone of his voice when speaking of Mia. She hoped her grand-daughter did not have to deal with this vile man until she had learned a lot more about dealing with such snakes!
Joseph gave no sign that he was paying any attention whatsoever to the Viscount, who promptly flew into a rage and never noticed the Prime Minister who entered through another door at that moment, accompanied by Lord Palimore and Mr. Hiller.
"I'm speaking to you!" the Viscount growled as he stomped over to Joseph. "And when I speak, I expect you to tear your thoughts from out of the gutter where you are reported to spend your time dreaming of pawing women who will never belong to you ... women so far out of your league that ... WAIT!" He swung around to Charlotte, who cowered before the fury in his eyes. "He was here last night when I called, wasn't he? THAT is why you said you couldn't interrupt her!"
"N-no," stammered Charlotte, terrified but determined to salvage the queen's honour. "N-no, he was NOT here when you called!"
Viscount Mabrey ignored her and glared at Joseph. "How DARE you meddle in my affairs!"
Joseph replied in a grim voice deadly with his anger. "My job, might I remind you, is to protect the interests and the emotions of the crown. If you ever harm one hair on her head ..."
The Viscount gave a short bark of laughter. "I'm not planning to HARM her, Sir. I am planning to MARRY her." Then he grinned maliciously. "A shame, sir, that YOU are not in the running. Everyone in Genovia is well aware of how you cater for the crown's emotions ..."
The onlookers watched and gasped at that. Clarisse was horrified at herself for the fierce gladness she felt when Joseph defended her honour so gloriously by felling the Viscount with one well-placed blow. With steely eyes and a grim countenance, Joseph looked around at the others, who, to a man, backed away with faint smiles, hands up in surrender.
"Your Majesty?" Charlotte was suddenly at Clarisse's side, stepping daintily over the prone bulk of the unconscious Viscount. "You are expected in the throne room."
"Thank you, Charlotte," Clarisse's voice was faint, then she squared her shoulders and met the Prime Minister's sympathetic gaze. "Sebastian, may I see you immediately following the public audience?"
"Yes, your Majesty," he bowed, and Clarisse met Joseph's eyes one last time before turning and leading Charlotte to the throne room.
When Clarisse was finished with the audiences, she met the Prime Minister in her suite, thankfully shedding the high heeled shoes before sitting at her desk. "Sebastian, Charlotte and I spent most of yesterday reading marriage proposals."
His look was apologetic. "She told me. I'm sorry, your Majesty."
"Did she also tell you our revenge?" Clarisse inquired sweetly.
Looking startled, the Prime Minister shook his head.
A tiny smile curved Clarisse's lips. "There are, at last count, four mail bags full of letters. I do believe most, if not all, are marriage proposals. The bags are to be delivered to Parliament promptly at one this afternoon for the opening of the session. It is up to the Members of Parliament to read them and decide what is to be done about them."
The Prime Minister's answering smile was understanding. "Very good, your Majesty. I shall see that it is done first thing."
"Thank you. Now, Sebastian, I do believe you have something else to confess to me?" After a moment's silence, she prompted him. "A little matter of a phone call?"
"Ah! Yes. Yes, I called Joseph, and urged him to return posthaste. Your Majesty, I do not like the way this matter has been handled from the beginning. It is utterly unfair to you."
"Thank you." Clarisse interjected.
"Not a problem. To be honest with you, I know how he feels about you ..."
Clarisse held up her hand, and he immediately shut his mouth. "Sebastian," she began, softly, picking up a pen and doodling on the pad on her desk, not looking at the man standing guiltily before her, "there are some things which are to be kept private. You DO understand, do you not?"
"Yes, your Majesty."
"Now, Sebastian," Clarisse dropped the pen and spoke briskly again, "once you have started the members of Parliament in their secretary mode, would you please come to see me? I wish to address Parliament this afternoon, and I would like your input before I do. There is no need for YOU to have to read all those letters either."
"Yes, your Majesty. I shall be here shortly after one o'clock." and he bowed himself out.
Clarisse leaned back and wiggled her feet experimentally. The door opened and Charlotte appeared. "Your noon meal is ready, your Majesty."
"Thank you. Charlotte, would it be possible for us to go outside with Maurice and eat in the garden?" Clarisse suggested impulsively.
Charlotte looked startled, then nodded enthusiastic agreement. "I'll see to it, your Majesty!"
The impromptu picnic was delightful. The two women sat in the sun and the puppy played at their feet and begged for scraps. Clarisse found herself relaxing with Charlotte more than she ever had before, and the two of them giggled over the incident in the foyer with the Viscount and Joseph. But neither mentioned the reasons behind the altercation, or the obvious emotions Joseph portrayed for the queen.
Clarisse had her meeting with Sebastian Motaz, then, head held high, met with Parliament at two o'clock. She ignored the papers scattered over the floor of Parliament and the sheepish looks on everyone's face. Viscount Mabrey was not in attendance, although she hadn't expected he would be.
Lifting her chin, very pale, but determined, Clarisse begged them to consider abolishing the archaic marriage law as it applied to future queens of Genovia. "I will agree to do the will of Parliament, as I am willing to do anything in my power for the good of Genovia. I will even marry at your request, although it is the very last action I had ever thought to make. If I do so, however, and looking ahead to my grand-daughter's reign, I am asking you to consider changing the law so that Mia will not have to submit to such a humiliating experience as you have turned this into for me." When Sebastian Motaz cleared his throat and nodded at her significantly, Clarisse continued, "Prime Minister?"
"Yes, your Majesty?"
"I move that the present law regarding the marital status of queens in Genovia be abolished." Clarisse said clearly and distinctly.
"Does anyone second the motion?"
For a moment there was silence, then a sudden surge of motion as every single man seated on the benches around the room came to his feet, crying "AYE!"
"I would say that motion is carried!" the Prime Minister said firmly, banging down the gavel.
Clarisse subsided into her chair, tears pricking her eyes as Parliament was recessed until Friday afternoon following the Betrothal Ball. She had saved Mia! She wondered what her grand-daughter would say about this special birthday present from Genovia's House of Parliament!
To be continued ...