Worlds Apart

Chapter 9

Bright sunlight streamed through the windows making the small sitting room glow with warmth despite the outside chill. The southernmost areas of Genovia enjoyed mild winters, for the most part, but there were days of intense cold and cloudiness. The day, in contrast to the somber mood surrounding the state funeral, was bright, crisp, and beautiful; on a different occasion, Clarisse could not have asked for better weather.

A long line of black limousines had brought heads of states and royals from around Europe and the world to Genovia. King Gustav had delivered the eulogy; brief remarks had been made by other close associates. The cathedral was filled to capacity and the streets were a dozen deep with those who could not enter. Rupert had been greatly admired and the out-pouring of grief moved Clarisse deeply.

She and Philippe had received callers the evening before, and while the public funeral was broadcast countrywide, the interment was a private affair with only their closest family and friends present. Through it all, Clarisse had sat unmoving, eyes ahead, her hand clasped tightly in Philippe's.

There was a soft knock on the door before it opened to Joseph, bearing a tray.

"Your Majesty, I thought perhaps you would care for something to eat and drink," he said, setting it on the low table.

"Thank you, but I'm not very hungry," she answered, looking back out over her rose garden, which was bare of any signs of life.

"Your Majesty, it is afternoon and you've not eaten since this morning," he replied firmly. She heard tea being poured. "You missed a meal yesterday, and several before that."

She suddenly realized he had not left her side for a week, not since that night in Zurich. He must be as tired as she- more so. When she slept, she knew he had security matters to attend to. A maid had mentioned he was sleeping at the palace and she had awakened one night and went to the kitchen for milk, only to find him still up.

Clarisse turned to face him. "Have I thanked you, Joseph, for looking after me through all this?"

"No thanks is necessary, Ma'am," he answered quietly.

"I wish to express it, anyway. I do not know what I would have done without you."

He dropped his gaze to the floor. "I am always at your service, Your Majesty."

She crossed through shafts of sunlight and came to stand in front of him, recalling the time when they had first met in that very same room, when her roses were in full bloom. That next day, she had been pleased to hear he had accepted the position as their head of security. It had proved to be a fortunate turns of events. For Clarisse, Joseph had quickly become a rock to rely on, someone to trust without reservation.

There were changes to come, she knew. Her world had been turned upside down and she needed to cling to what she knew was solid and unchanging.

"Joseph," she began hesitantly, "will you be staying?"

He looked up. "Ma'am?"

"Now that…King Rupert is gone…will you be staying?"

His expression unreadable, he answered slowly, as if unsure. "If it is your wish."

"It is my wish."

"Then, I will be here, Your Majesty, for as long as you need me," he answered softly.

"Thank you, Joseph." Her heart lightened a little and she sat on the small loveseat and took a deep breath. "I think I will have a cup of tea."

"Mother, I have never wanted this." Philippe took her hands in his. "I do not feel prepared…I do not feel I can give what the people need…"

He broke off, struggling to find the right words. How did one give up a throne?

"Philippe, it is not as if you would be without assistance. You would have Parliament, the Prime Minister and his advisors, as well as myself and Gustav and others to call upon." Clarisse tried to keep her annoyance from her words. "You've known this would be coming one day."

His shoulders slumped; Philippe sighed and came to his feet. "I know. Still…"

He picked up a glass figurine on the end table then set it down, his back to her. "You were co-regent with Father. You can continue-"

"I did not plan to continue as queen. I expected that you would assume the crown!"

Philippe did not reply.

"It has been over four months since your father's death and I fear Parliament is growing impatient with my excuses for you. You have a duty to your country and it is time you-"

He spun around to face her. "Duty? Isn't what I want important?"

"We cannot always put ourselves, first, Philippe!" Clarisse rose, shaking with emotion. "One's duty is foremost, and in our position, we have a responsibility that must be seen to. We cannot shirk our obligations!"

He looked away and was silent for a moment. "I don't know if I can do that, Mother. I know a decision must be made soon and I will give it my attention. But, for now, that is all I can promise."

She wanted to say more, but knew it would be useless.

Squaring his shoulders, he faced her. "Unless you need me here, I am going to London. I agreed to teach a course this semester as a visiting lecturer. It is five months in length, so I will be finished in mid-November."

When she did not answer, he continued stiffly.

"I will, of course, be returning to attend those functions at which you feel my attendance is necessary."

She nodded. "I shall keep you informed."

He watched her, wishing he could live up to what she expected of him. "Mother, I…"

"I understand, Philippe." She didn't, but to belabor the point would do the situation no good.

He quickly crossed the room and kissed the top of her head. She took his hand and smiled, then released it. Without another word, he left.

"Queen Clarisse, please forgive my bluntness. I know that King Rupert, God rest his soul, has been gone barely six months and your family is still in mourning, but we must talk about Prince Philippe and the future of the Genovian throne."

She nodded, willing herself to stay calm. "Yes, of course, Sebastian. Please, speak freely."

They were sitting alone in her office with Joseph outside the door to make certain no one disturbed them.

"Thank you, Your Majesty." Prime Minister Motaz hesitated then began again, choosing his words carefully. "We realize that Prince Philippe has been….reluctant to assume the throne, however I must tell you that several members in Parliament are not pleased with the delay. Is the situation still the same?"

"I have spoken with my son and, at the present, there is no change in his opinion." There was no need to cover up for him now, she knew.

"If Prince Philippe refuses, and without another Renaldi, the throne will pass to the Von Troken family- the Baron being the next in line." His large frame shuddered and his voice dropped. "There are those of us, Your Majesty, who do not wish to see this occur."

He took a long swallow of tea to fortify himself. "We have managed, by making several concessions on other matters, to give Philippe three more months- until the end of November- to decide. After that, there is nothing more we can do. The heir to the throne must be announced."

In truth, it was more than she had hoped for.

"Thank you, Sebastian. I understand."

"Please know that you have the full support of myself and Parliament and may continue as our sovereign, as long as you so desire," he continued earnestly. "Indeed, we would rather see you rule than-"

He broke off, reddening. Had he been about to say 'Philippe'? Had her son already lost the trust of his country's government leaders?

"I appreciate your support, Prime Minister Motaz. Please assure the members of Parliament that I have no intention of stepping down until a suitable solution is found."

The prime minister appeared relieved to hear this.

"You are aware, are you not, that my granddaughter, Amelia, would be the next in line- should her father choose not to accept the throne?" Clarisse added, pouring more tea into her cup.

Motaz looked faintly embarrassed. "Well, we were not sure…seeing as how the young lady's parentage…that is, we did not know if…"

"She is Philippe's legitimate heir," Clarisse continued, "and as such, she cannot be discounted from the line of succession."

"Ah, yes, well…certainly." Motaz drained his cup. "That would certainly solve the problem of the Von Trokens." He brightened considerably. "An admirable solution! Tell me, is Princess Amelia excited about one day assuming her place in Genovia's history?"

Clarisse took a deep breath. "Well, actually, my granddaughter knows nothing of it."

With a thud, Prince Philippe closed the thick tome and leaned back in his chair. He had the last of his packing still to do that evening and he wanted to check with his bodyguard, Bates, about their trip. In times past, he was able to travel unaccompanied. However, since Joseph Coraza took over as the head of security, he now had to have a companion, one of the guards, with him at all times.

Rotating each month, he'd gotten to know most of them, and, in general, they were not a problem. Last month, however, one man, Pearson, had walked into a rather awkward situation; his current guard, Bates, however, knew what a closed door meant. The man, with a family at home, was pleased to be returning to Genovia. Philippe was not as eager.

He was expected in Genovia in three days for the annual Fall Festivities, an old traditional holiday when the royal family visited local farms to compliment the owners on their good showing and harvest during the year. The last time he had participated he'd ended up having to gush over a very fat sow while it snuffled about his feet, chewing on his shoelaces.

More importantly, though, upon his return he had to give his mother and Parliament an answer.

What if he refused the throne? His mother could continue as queen. She was loved by all- no one would object. She'd already shown she was capable of the position. But, what of the future, when she was unable to rule…or joined his father? If he did not assume the throne, it would fall to Amelia.

He rubbed his eyes then stared at the picture of the young girl on his desk.

Amelia.

Could he leave such a huge responsibility to her when she was even more unprepared than he? Was it fair to suddenly spring the news on her that not only was she was a princess, but she was the next in line to the throne of Genovia? Could he leave his responsibilities and duty to her?

No. He could not.

With a heavy, but resolute heart, he picked up the phone. A minute later, she was on the line.

"Mother, I've come to a decision...I will." He closed his eyes, listening. "I'm glad you're pleased. Yes, of course, you may tell the Prime Minister. Yes, I will be there- I am driving home so I will see you in three days." He could not help but smile at the relief and joy he heard in his mother's voice. "I love you, too. Good bye, Mother."

He sat for a long time, the dead phone in his hand. Slowly, he replaced it. Crating his books was going to have to wait, Philippe decided. Instead, he would take his journal and sit for while at the estate's small pond. There was a letter he needed to write to his daughter.