With a gracious nod, Clarisse thanked the attendant as the young woman removed her empty teacup. The meetings had run very late and to prevent her returning to Genovia in the wee hours of the morning, she had been obliged to skip the dinner and go directly to the airport.
Thoughtfully, Joseph had ordered a meal be delivered to the royal jet for her and Charlotte. She had asked if his men had eaten and Joseph assured her they had during their breaks, but Clarisse had forgotten to ask about his own dinner. He had been with her the entire evening, so she was sure he had not had the opportunity.
Outside, the blinking light on the wing tip cut through the darkness. She slid the window cover down and took out the documents Charlotte had prepared for the next day's meeting with the Genovian National Health Board then perused them half-heartedly while stifling a yawn. Tomorrow, her day would be just as busy as today, even with Charlotte's rescheduling.
It was a surprise that Charlotte had not moved on to a posting in the diplomatic corps. Clarisse once suggested a position in Switzerland, but she had politely declined saying she enjoyed her job at the palace and was content to stay there as long as Clarisse needed her. Clarisse was pleased to have her.
Looking to the front of the aircraft, Clarisse saw Shades slip into the seat next to Charlotte, and she smiled, happy for them. Love was for the young.
Despite that sentiment, she could not help but be flattered at the attention she had recently received from several men. She was hardly in a position to seriously consider a romantic relationship; her duties kept her entirely to busy for such personal indulgences. Still, the interest made her feel feminine in a way she had never before.
At the moment, however, all she felt was tired. Her staff did their best to make her travels as least tiring as possible, but age and late nights had a way of making themselves felt. It was a four-hour flight and Clarisse did not hesitate in kicking off her shoes and sliding her feet into a soft pair of slippers. A quick trip to the lavatory, then to sleep. The day had been far too long.
As was custom, only Joseph was seated behind her. Two rows back, his head was turned to the side, as if he were gazing out his window. It was only when she was at his seat did she realize he was asleep.
If her day had been long, she could only imagine his. The first up, the last to retire…
A bottle of water and a cold sandwich still wrapped in wax paper lay on the seat next to him. In his lap was a folder- he'd been working when he dozed off. Carefully, Clarisse removed the papers and placed them on the seat behind him. She smiled. Dearest Joseph...
Clarisse hesitated, unsure, then picked up the soft blanket and spread it over him. He looked after her, but who looked after him?
She was nearly certain Joseph was not seeing anyone. Word got out in the palace and if not the maids, then her closer staff often let slip bits of information or gossip. Special events such as anniversaries, births, or weddings were recognized with a personal note of congratulations. Oddly, not once had anything of a personal nature concerning Joseph Coraza crossed her desk.
He had an apartment in the older part of town, at the river. She knew this because she'd overheard Shades giving directions to a new agent. Was it a refuge where he was content to relax? Or, did it seem empty when he was there?
Was Joseph ever lonely?
Her hand lingered on his shoulder, gently caressing the curve of muscle under his black turtleneck with her thumb. He always wore black.
She froze, holding her breath he stirred, the thick muscles under her fingers tensing. How would she ever explain herself? A queen's actions should never be so forward with a man! Joseph mumbled something under his breath then quieted.
From behind her came a soft voice. "Is there anything wrong, Your Majesty?"
"No, no nothing is wrong," she replied over her shoulder, managing to sound normal. "I'm just preparing to rest for awhile. Would you dim the lights, please?"
"Yes, Ma'am," the man answered. His expression barely changing, Hans studiously avoided looking at Joseph slumbering under the blanket tucked around his shoulders or the queen's hand now resting on the seatback.
"The dinner and dance tomorrow night at the museum fundraiser…how about it?"
Charlotte cast a scowl sideways at the man leaning across her desk. "Nothing for you to be concerned about- some of us have done their work and all the arrangements are taken care of," she answered primly, coming to her feet. "And you know there were several add-ons to the guest list including the king and queen of Ravenstein and Mr. Neal Hobbes- or should I say 'Baron Hobbes.' I think he's to escort the queen- at least, he suggested it."
Shades followed her to the file cabinet and propped a shoulder against the wall. "I know Her Majesty's extremely efficient, not to mention beautiful aide has everything under control." He ran the tip of a finger along her arm. "I was talking about us."
Charlotte moved away. "What us?" she asked, pretending to check the day's schedule.
"Maybe we could sneak in a dance…or two?"
"May I remind you that we are staff and staff do not dance?"
He leaned close, whispering in her ear. "Joseph and Her Majesty did."
She snapped the diary shut. "Well, I am not the queen…and you, sir, are certainly not Joseph Coraza." Just for good measure, she looked him up and down, one eyebrow raised in amusement.
Unable to think of a comeback, Shades crossed his arms and studied Charlotte, hoping he appeared undaunted.
"I'd advise you," she continued, "to go find work before Joseph catches you annoying Her Majesty's employees. I'm sure there's-" She broke off suddenly as Clarisse entered the room.
"There are a few changes that need your attention, Charlotte. I'm having guests for cocktails the night after the ball." The queen handed her a sheaf of papers. "Thank you for handling that little misunderstanding concerning Prince Ivar and Princess Rotina. I'm sure they will be much happier if they stayed at the Golden Pear Hotel- as will we."
Charlotte quickly took note of the changes the queen wanted while Shades stood by solemnly as if he were guarding the royal jewels instead of hitting on a woman.
As the queen turned to leave, Charlotte spoke, unsure how to phrase her question. One did not ask the queen outright if she had a date. "Your Majesty, I'd like to confirm if you will have someone by your side at the ball."
Clarisse glanced at her aide as if Charlotte should know the answer already. Gesturing with a perfectly manicured hand, she replied, "Joseph will be there, of course," then left.
Charlotte and Shades looked at one another. "Of course," they repeated in unison.
Gloves in hand and the voluminous layers of her satin ball gown rustling with each step, Queen Clarisse did not hurry across the marble-floored atrium, but neither did she tarry.
"This afternoon was a horrid one- simply full of unexpected problems! I feel, to be perfectly honest, frazzled."
Mia quickened her pace. How could Grandmother move so quickly, yet still appear not to rush? Maybe the secret was in one of her princess lessons yet to come.
"Does this hairpiece look odd? I should have told Paola to leave it off!" she whispered to Mia.
Mia grinned. The quick trip to Genovia during her fall break was rushed, but she was enjoying her last visit with her grandmother before pressures of the coming summer coronation began. It was her senior year and passing all too quickly.
They had discussed Mia's becoming queen, but not her grandmother's plans. She was well aware of Joseph's high regard for Clarisse- did grandmother feel the same? Could older people fall in love?
"Oh, my hair is just a mess!" her grandmother continued with an exasperated wave of her hand.
"A complete rat's nest, Grandmother," she answered seriously. Mia could not help but laugh her grandmother's shocked expression.
Clarisse stopped dead still. "Amelia!"
"I'm just teasing- you look absolutely beautiful. I'll prove it to you. Joseph," Mia said, turning to where he stood dressed in formal attire, his attention solely on the queen. "Doesn't Grandmother look pretty?"
Gazing intently at Clarisse, Joseph came to stand in front of her. Clarisse felt her face warm and she lifted her chin a fraction. Joseph took her hand in his and bowed low, touching his lips to her fingers. They were soft and warm and his goatee tickled.
"You are lovely, my queen." He answered slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. Joseph held her hand for a moment longer then released it.
It was all Clarisse could do to speak. "Thank you," she murmured.
Around them, everyone waited silently. Joseph smiled and Clarisse completely forgot about her hair - and everything else.
"After the ball, I think we should find a cozy place to…chat," the breathy voice said in Shades earpiece.
Three pairs of eyes snapped to where Joseph stood across the hall and Anton's snort of laughter was heard through their small headsets before he could clap a hand over his mike.
Shades shot him a cutting look and the tall man tried to sober. Even so, Shades had to fight his own urge to smile when he saw Anton motion to Hans, rubbing the fingers of his right hand together; it was third woman tonight to make a suggestive comment to their boss; Anton had apparently won the bet.
They heard Joseph politely decline the invitation then excuse himself. Joseph still had women pursuing him…he just wasn't interested in pursuing them.
It had all changed about the time of King Rupert's death, Shades recalled. Aware now of Joseph's feelings for the queen- he was around the two of them constantly- it made sense. Still, the men found it diverting to keep track of how many females cast apprising glances at Joseph and how many got up the nerve to actually approach him.
It wasn't breaking anyone's privacy, really. It was part of their job to be aware of what was going on around them. Being an agent required a great deal of discretion on their part…mostly in ignoring the indiscretions of others.
Across the room, Hans edged closer to the rejected woman and gave her a smile. Shades didn't bother to cover his laugh as the woman ignored Hans and walked away.
From a corner of the dance floor, Joseph watched as the man holding Clarisse swung her around once then twice in time to the music. Neal Hobbes headed one of Europe's leading businesses as well as topped the list of the continent's wealthiest men.
Through a distant family relation he had inherited a minor title and was not averse to using it to his advantage. Hobbes had been a guest at several other functions the queen had attended, but his behavior was now taking a turn to the more personal. Although nothing in his manner could be called improper, it was evident to Joseph that Hobbes was intent on Clarisse.
Laughing at something Hobbes said, Clarisse took his arm and the couple strolled toward the open doors leading to the balcony beyond. Keeping his distance, Joseph followed.
Clarisse was stunning this evening. Her champagne-colored satin dress graced her curves in smooth lines and the beading accented her waist. It reminded Joseph of the dress she'd worn in San Francisco when he had held her in his arms and they had danced.
Hobbes and the queen disappeared through the door and Hans, stationed in a discrete corner of the balcony, reported them in sight.
Acknowledging the Prime Minister and King Stefan as he passed them, Joseph recalled that evening in San Francisco. He'd not danced with her since- it would have been extremely improper for him to ask. That evening had been a special one when everyone's spirits were high in celebration of Amelia's acceptance. It could not be repeated.
From the doorway's edge, he could see them. Her arm on his, Clarisse was listening intently to Hobbes, an amused expression on her face.
While the realization of his never being acknowledged by his father or his family was no longer a raw ache, the thought of a future without Clarisse was agonizing. During the past years he had pushed the limits of his responsibilities and of convention out of love for Clarisse.
Joseph knew she was fond of him, and during their frequent garden walks at twilight he often believed Clarisse might care for him greatly, even though she had never spoken of such feelings. Due to her sense of duty, he was unsure how deep she would allow her feelings to grow or if Clarisse would even admit to them. And to speak of his own thoughts openly at present…
Joseph sighed. He was staff, an employee of the palace, and such a breach of protocol was unheard of and unpardonable. Any awkwardness between he and Clarisse could seriously jeopardize her trust in her safety and in him.
He was hindered by his position, yet his position was what allowed him near her.
A chill autumn breeze fluttered the sheer curtains framing the double doors. In other circumstances, had Clarisse not been holding a man's arm, he would have suggested she return to the ballroom or allow him to send for her wrap if she desired to stay outside. Instead, he waited patiently and tried not to notice Clarisse had moved even closer to Hobbes.
Mia would be graduating from college next spring and returning to Genovia for her coronation; Clarisse would be stepping down, albeit in name only, shortly thereafter. He knew Clarisse would continue working behind the scenes after Princess Mia was crowned. Still, the full responsibility would be off her shoulders and she could start thinking of her own future. Clarisse was too vibrant a woman to retire alone quietly to a minor castle and only to come out for public holidays and school dedications.
Perhaps next spring would be the best time to declare his heart, when Clarisse would soon be free of her title and he of his duties. In the meantime, he would continue to care for her the only way he could and hope her feelings matched his own. He assumed a position just inside the doorway and waited.
"I hope Princess Amelia is so fortunate as to have a Head of Security with Coraza's abilities and dedication," King Stefan said, watching Joseph. He sipped his drink thoughtfully.
"You think he will not stay?" Startled at the comment, Prime Minister Motaz frowned and ignored the glass halfway to his lips.
"Clarisse will no longer be queen," Stefan replied with a shrug.
"Ah, yes!" Motaz smiled and lowered his glass. "Frankly, I am surprised the two of them have not...well, shall we say….that is…"
Stefan lifted a brow in query.
The prime minister shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the medal at his throat swaying slightly. He smoothed his sash with his free hand. "Joseph is inordinately diligent in his duties- far beyond what is called for, and Her Majesty certainly seems to-" He stopped, suddenly aware he was discussing matters of discretion.
Stefan grunted noncommittally, not wishing to embarrass Motaz. Coraza had backed away from the door, fading into the crowd as Clarisse and Neal Hobbes returned from the balcony. He knew what Joseph was doing; his own guards did the same. Coraza was giving Clarisse and Hobbes privacy. Despite the fact that he was not at his usual position by Clarisse's side, Stefan knew that Coraza was well able to look after her.
Since Rupert and Philippe's death, Stefan had worried about Clarisse. Being responsible for your nation and your countrymen was a huge weight on one's shoulders, and he had been concerned Clarisse would struggle under it. She'd done admirably, not that he questioned her ability to rule. His anxiety was over her emotional well-being. Clarisse Gerard Renaldi gave her all for her people and saved little for herself.
Across the floor, Stefan saw Hobbes reluctantly relinquish his position by Clarisse's side when an ambassador and a Danish prince joined them. Hobbes and the prince gave Coraza a scornful glance as he approached Clarisse with a glass of water and received a smile from her in return. Stefan took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Propriety.
In the world of which Clarisse was a part, there were rules one lived by even in this day and age. Although only enforced in earlier times when a male royal married beneath his social status, the mind-set behind the limited ascension and recognition of morganatic marriages could still be found amongst the Continental elite. If she were to have a relationship with Coraza, her employee and a commoner with no influence to speak of in her circle of society, the pressure could be tremendous on Clarisse.
Duty and one's desire was a fine line to negotiate. Still, without balance in one's life, hollowness would develop inside and grow larger and larger until all that remained was a shell of emotions. Clarisse was a queen and a woman. Stefan hoped she remembered that.
A night after the ball, Josiah Cates stood stiffly at the outer edge of the library awaiting the opportunity to serve. After thirty-five years as the palace butler, the highest position of authority within the palace household, Cates could easily fade into the background. While few observed him, he observed everyone. It was his duty.
The occasion was a small get-together of Her Majesty's guests from the ball the previous evening, not more than a dozen in attendance. Queen Clarisse allowed only very close friends and a select few guests to stay at the palace. Only King Stefan and his wife were in residence; all other invitees had taken rooms or suites at the Golden Pear Hotel. The queen guarded her privacy.
At his glance, a junior footman removed an empty glass Prime Minister Motaz had placed on the sofa table. With only a slight bobble, the footman steadied it on his tray as he walked to the sideboard. Pleased, Cates gave the footman a nod; the young man was coming along nicely. He glanced over the room for anything else needing his attention or an indication that a guest wished another drink.
King Stefan caught Cates's eye; Queen Helene required another glass of wine. Behind Cates, the senior footman half-filled a crystal goblet and set it on a tray. Cates decided to take it to her himself as it would give him a chance to check the canapés.
As he rounded the sitting area, he could see the expression on Queen Clarisse's face and it was one of distinct unease. Baron Hobbes laughed loudly and several people in the group surrounding them smiled uncertainly. Cates glanced to where Joseph Coraza sat unobtrusively in a corner.
When the queen entertained close friends, the staff did their best to keep intrusions to a minimum. Tonight, his staff consisted of Cates himself and two footmen. For intimate parties of only two or three guests, he alone, with staff waiting in the hallway, was adequate.
Although they worked together on planning, Joseph was required to use a different set of guidelines. Liveried footmen did not present the same imposing figure as one of Mr. Coraza's agents. Lining the walls with wired men dressed in dark suits with guns bulging under their jackets was certain to dampen the spirits of a party.
Once and only once had Joseph placed agents in livery so as to blend in the palace staff. Cates had nearly fainted when he saw Hans hand the Austrian president a glass of champagne by the flute's rim and Anton stack empty highball glasses on his tray. Afterwards, he had insisted that in the future Coraza's agents pose as anything but his staff and that they not come near the Waterford. Upon being presented the bill for the evening's broken crystal, Joseph had agreed.
Tonight, as on most occasions, Joseph was the only agent in the room, even if other royalty were present. But, Cates knew that along with the routine staff, two extra men were stationed just beyond the unlocked French doors and another in the hallway with King Stefan's own personal guards. To lessen his presence, Joseph simply sat, at times with a book open in his lap. Whether or not Joseph was reading, Cates did not know. He was certain that nothing escaped the man's notice.
He admired Colonel Joseph Coraza immensely. Under great opposition, Joseph had turned Security into an efficient and effective service. In addition, he had instigated changes nationally that had been sorely needed. Some looked upon Joseph as a servant at the palace, but Cates most assuredly did not. One day, Cates knew Joseph Coraza would be sitting beside Clarisse Renaldi and not in the corner watching.
Everyone in the palace- probably the country- knew Joseph was in love with her and most thought she was in love with him. But, Queen Clarisse was devoted to her duties. Not that he would ever criticize the queen, not even his own wife Gerta, a palace cook. But, he didn't need to. Gerta expressed the same opinion to the kitchen and housekeeping staff and they all agreed with her.
He had heard talk in town, although not often, that Joseph was a commoner and it would not be proper for him to be husband to a queen since the royal house was an institution to be preserved and not weakened. The Renaldis had served the people of Genovia with selfless devotion and untiring effort and deserved the respect they enjoyed. But, a man had to be judged on his own merits and Cates was firm in his belief that Joseph Coraza was a man to measure up to anyone's standards.
Surveying the room from his position near the drink trolley, he saw Hobbes glance toward Joseph then place his hand on the queen's arm familiarly before taking her hand in his. Cates tensed, wondering how Joseph could sit calmly and watch. Joseph's hand stilled with a page of the old book half-turned. But for that, there was no indication Joseph had noticed. Coolly, Queen Clarisse removed her hand and reached for a bowl of nuts to offer to the Prime Minister who already held a plate of canapés in one hand a glass of water in the other. Joseph turned the page.
After the incident in Brussels, when Joseph had been injured protecting the king, the palace staff had no doubt that Coraza was the man for the job. The icy and undeserved reception he'd received on his arrival at the palace thawed and none could deny him a request. Even that old dragon-lady Miss Parker had changed her tune, bullying everyone's staff, including Cate's, to get work on the security center completed before Joseph's return from recuperative leave.
Neal Hobbes stood and slowly made his way to stand before Cates.
"Another drink," the baron ordered. Cates looked to Joseph who discretely nodded, lifting one finger. Cates splashed a very healthy amount of water in the glass along with a meager shot of liquor, and then pressed the stopper into the bottle with a satisfying click. After this one, the baron would be cut off from the booze.
Hobbes took the glass from the tray and eyed the diluted drink. "Better make it a double- without the water this time."
Glancing away from the page before him, Joseph spoke just loud enough for the three of them to hear. "On my order, sir, Mr. Cates and his staff will not be serving you more alcohol." He turned his attention back to the book.
The baron's mouth tightened and he swallowed half his drink in one gulp, staring at Joseph. "What gives you the right to make that decision?"
"My position of responsibility," Joseph answered mildly. Not for the first time, Joseph wondered why Clarisse had invited Hobbes to the palace.
"Oh, really?" Hobbes snapped.
"Yes," Joseph replied calmly. He could and would drag the offensive man out of the room if need be. There would be, of course, explanations demanded by the queen for such an action, but he had the authority to bodily remove anyone he deemed a threat of any sort to the royal family. Hobbes was a nuisance- that was close enough.
Silent for a moment, the baron thought better of pursuing that line of enmity. He changed tactics. "Reading a book- an interesting way for a servant to look after the queen. With your marked interest in Clarisse, I would have thought you would be more thorough in your duties."
Joseph turned the page slowly, unperturbed. "If you are suggesting I was not aware of what is taking place in the room, such as your joke of questionable taste that few found amusing, or your requesting your fourth drink, then you are mistaken."
The glass hit the table hard and several guests turned to look. Cates quickly grabbed the glass before it toppled off the edge…or the baron picked it up and threw it.
"You are reaching too high, Coraza," he ground out under his breath. "Clarisse would never stoop so low."
Joseph's expression did not change as he skimmed the last paragraph of the chapter.
Hobbes sneered down at him. "Among several of my close friends, there are rumors about you. Should someone whisper the word 'bastard' into the right ears…"
Shocked that someone knew about him, it was a moment before he could answer.
"My father would destroy him," Joseph replied then watched with satisfaction as the color drained from the baron's face. Almost amused, Joseph thought it the only time his father had been useful to him. He stood, handing the book to Hobbes. "You might enjoy this. It is an excellent study of ego and man's fall."
Cates, already ramrod straight, still managed to stand a little taller as Joseph walked unhurriedly past him to a position nearer the queen. The corner of Cate's mouth quirked into a satisfied smile and he did nothing to prevent it. In the corner, the baron looked at the book in his hand, puzzled. It was in Latin.
My dear readers: Ah, yes…we are nearing the end of this part of the series. Since we all know what happens to our beloved couple, some of you have asked if I'm going to leave them hanging. I couldn't do that!
I have a good portion of part 3 already on paper, just waiting for the plasma screen. It goes beyond the end of the movie, so there's ample opportunity to deal with all those pesky details I'm trying to keep track of.
The scene with Cates the butler was what originally started this whole story. I imagined Joseph watching Clarisse from afar with the butler thinking how unfair it was that Joseph could not declare his feelings for the queen, even though he was more than worthy- if they only knew!
If they only knew what? That led to his being the son of a duke, etc, etc….and the story just kept growing and I kept having more and more fun.
As for sticking to canon (thanks for your review, Anonymous!), I will try to as much as possible. Well, considering I'm making up a great deal of the story, I'll stay as true to the movie as I can. In fact, I'm going to grit my teeth, fire up the laptop, pop PD2 in the dvd player, and watch Joseph and Clarisse yet again just so I can take notes. Oh, the things I do for fine literature! How I suffer! The sacrifices! You don't know-
Oh, you do?
Sorry. I'll get back to writing now. Thanks to all of you for reviewing. Writing this is a great deal of fun and to share it with you makes it even more so!