Part 3
Joseph took a deep breath, then turned the key and pushed open the door. It had been only a little over a week since he had been in this house, but already it was somewhat musty-smelling. Stepping in, he let the door close behind him, but moved no further. So many memories were bombarding him: Nan laughing at him mockingly as she performed an exotic strip-tease dance for him ... within the first week of their possession of the house, the two of them making love in every room and hallway in order to have the house 'filled with love as a home should be' ... Nan's tears every month when her prayers for a child went unanswered, her refusal to accept her condition in spite of seeing a multitude of doctors, then finally her reluctant acceptance of their childlessness as she threw herself into her role as a world-renowned singer who spent months on tour, away from her husband ... nights he had spent alone, wishing she was in Genovia with him and nights they had spent together loving, arguing, making up ...
"I checked the dressing room first, and thought it was empty. Now I'm wishing I had thoroughly checked it. Anyway, King Rupert, may he rest in peace, came in with me and said he would wait for Miss Anna ... I mean, well, your wife. I took up my post outside the door. She was there in a moment, and smiled at me as she went in. She must have known the king was there. The door closed, and I heard the murmur of voices, then some thumping noises ..." Franz had said to him that afternoon last week.
"Thumping noises?"
"Yes, almost like, well ..." Franz's voice had trailed off, his face getting red.
"Like?" Joseph had prompted again, almost impatiently.
"Well, I remember thinking at the time that it almost sounded as if they were ... well, making love standing up against the door," Franz had finished hurriedly. Then he had plunged on. "Or maybe as if they were angry and pounding the wall ... I don't know. I don't KNOW! I only know what I heard! The rest I was just imagining!" Franz was shaking as he tried to remember those last few moments before everything began to unravel quickly. "Anyway, suddenly there was a loud scream. Not a, well, a happy scream, you know, if there is such a thing. No, this was full of horror. Froze my blood, it did! I tried to open the door, but it was locked. Then the knob twisted and the door was flung open from the inside and your wife ran out past me. That's when I saw the ... the King ... on the floor. I didn't notice where your wife went ... I ran up to the King ... his eyes were open and bulging, he had a look of shock and pain on his face, and his hands were grabbing at his chest. He was dead, sir. DEAD!" Franz had shuddered, and hadn't been able to say any more.
Joseph, who had remained silent through the recitation, had clenched his jaw. The reasons rumours had been started had become clear, thanks to Franz' story. Joseph had felt grateful, if it could be called gratitude when nothing was good about the situation, that there had not been nearly as many rumours there might have been. The security team had obviously done its job well, and had rallied around the King, the Queen, and Franz, as they had been trained to do.
Then Franz had pulled himself together and had continued. "I shut the door again and ran to tell you and ... and Queen Clarisse. What I didn't say was that his ... The King's ... his ... trousers were around his knees, his jacket was off and his shirt unbuttoned. But in the confusion, much of that was forgotten. The police have been questioning me, I know they suspected that I might have had something to do with his death. They've asked for my story, over and over, and Joe, sometimes I wonder if what I saw was really right or not! I was in such a state that I almost don't know what I saw, and with the police keeping on about it, I'm afraid the story is changing, and it's because I JUST DO NOT KNOW FOR SURE!" Franz had choked on the last words and had swallowed frantically, wanting to get out the rest of the story. "There is another piece to the puzzle. One of the stage crew was seen earlier in the evening, and then he disappeared, and no one has seen him since. What if he had been hiding in your wife's dressing room and had come out, murdered the King, frightened off your wife, then escaped through the window? For all we know, he snuck back in to the Opera House and ... well, pushed your wife down the stairs, to get rid of her as a possible witness! I think his name is ... Ronald? Robert? Albert, do you remember hearing about him?"
"I remember hearing there was someone else they wanted to question, but no, I never heard the name." Albert had said. "So you see, Joe, there are still a lot of questions that need to be answered. And unfortunately, the only two who know the whole story are both ..." he had stopped abruptly.
Now Joseph realized his fists were clenched as he relived his meeting with Franz. In the week since that conversation, the missing stage hand had not been found, and there was more and more speculation that perhaps he had had something to do with the King's death. There had also been some whispers that the missing man was somehow in cahoots with Nan, but Joseph couldn't imagine that. Still, he couldn't imagine the other possibility, either ... that his Nan and King Rupert had been having an affair. Was it really possible? Had they? He shuddered at the thought, and tried to think of alternate possibilities. But what else was there? King Rupert had attempted to RAPE Nan? Nan had begun one of her strip-teases to deliberately seduce the King for some unknown, incredible reason? Everything had been completely innocent, Nan had been changing, the King had felt suddenly ill causing Nan to loosen his clothing in an attempt to help him breathe, then had been horrified when he had died in her room so had run out screaming, and whoever had first found her body had hopes of implicating her in the King's death? Could either the King or the missing stage hand have possibly been the 'other man' Nan had once admitted to loving?
Turning in his anguish of confusion and feelings of betrayal, Joseph pounded the wall with his fists until they were bruised and he hardly had enough strength to remain standing. He slumped against the wall, and slid down until he was sitting on the floor. He couldn't do this. He just couldn't. And yet ... what choice did he have? He had to keep going. He HAD to carve a new life for himself out of the chaos surrounding him.
Then the memory of beautiful blue eyes filled with tears invaded his mind. Queen Clarisse! Joseph sat up abruptly. My God ... it was HER HUSBAND who was quite possibly the 'other person' in the potential scandal! If she ever heard even the merest hint of the rumours, what would she do? How would she feel towards HIM, knowing that it was his late wife who had been involved? She had obviously not heard a thing, at least, not when they had met that first time, as that had been when she had offered him the suite in the palace. If she had even suspected that an affair between their spouses was a possibility, there was a very good chance that she would not want Joseph around the palace. It could prove all too uncomfortable for them both. Perhaps he SHOULD resign! But then, what would he do? Where would he go? At least if he remained as the Head of Security for the Royal Family of Genovia ... in this case, Queen Clarisse, since Prince Philippe was likely to be in the hospital for a long time to come yet ... he would have a roof over his head that was free of memories of Nan, and more importantly, he would have a purpose for living.
Dragging himself up, Joseph looked again around the entrance and into the living room. Then he went slowly up the stairs to begin to gather more of his belongings together. He would only take what he wanted to keep. He would sort through Nan's things as well as his own, then arrange for someone to sell the house and contents. He did not want to have to come back here ever again.
It was while he was looking through Nan's jewellery drawer that he found it. A note in King Rupert's distinctive scrawl. Joseph sank down on the bed and deliberately read through the short missive:
My Nan, I find I WILL be able to come to your performance tonight, so I would love to meet you in your dressing room during intermission. I am sure our meeting will be mutually satisfying. I have missed you, my special one. I am truly as happy in my relationship as you are in yours, but you and I have something together which surpasses all else, doesn't it? Until tonight. Yours, R.
For a moment, Joseph stared at the note, then he crumpled it savagely in his fist as his heart pounded. So ... King Rupert had been the other man. Joseph fiercely hoped that he was NOT resting in peace! Nan and the King had both been 'happy' with their spouses, but ALSO had something going on the side? Or, since the King had written he had missed her, was this the first meeting since their marriages? By the sounds of the King's note, Nan had been in touch with him first. How? How would a message have gotten through the tight security around the King, unless it had been encoded? What was the full story? Joseph HAD to know! He had the RIGHT to know! How could Nan POSSIBLY do this to him? It hurt; oh God, it hurt!
He ran through a gamut of emotions in quick succession: anger, confusion, even some embarrassment at the thought of what others would think of him and his inability to hold his wife's interest. He was furious at Nan, furious with the King, incredulous that either of them would do this to him and the Queen, furious with the Queen for not suspecting her husband's straying heart and furious with himself for not having been around enough to know Nan's secrets. Or HAD the Queen suspected or known about this? Was it possible that she knew and had never said a word? Had the missing stage-hand really had anything to do with that night's events, or was his disappearance a co-incidence? Joseph re-read the lines scrawled on the paper and wondered if there could possibly be an innocent explanation for the planned tryst. Was there any way Joseph could have misunderstood the meaning? He sincerely hoped so ... oh God, he prayed it was so!
Finally he smoothed out the note and read it again, taking deep breaths to slow his wildly thumping heart. Then, folding the note carefully, Joseph put it in his pocket. Perhaps one day Queen Clarisse would feel that SHE had the right to know as much as possible about this as Joseph did, however little that might be. Getting up, he looked around the room with narrowed eyes. He had never seen Nan writing in a diary, but perhaps she had one somewhere. His jaw set, Joseph began rummaging through drawers, looking in closets and opening boxes and bags. He even checked under the mattress of the bed. Somewhere there had to be answers to the hellish anguish he was experiencing right now!
O o O o O o
Two days later, Joseph still hadn't found anything that would provide some answers to the relationship between the King and his wife, although he came back to the house in what little spare time he had and continued searching. He busied himself at the palace installing some cameras around the perimeter of the grounds and some in the palace itself.
As he was programming one of the monitors one afternoon, a knock came at the door of the security office. Joseph looked up to see a messenger boy holding a large brown envelope.
"I was told to report to you, Sir," the lad said, respectfully, handing Joseph the envelope. "This is from the police, as you can see, and the report is to be read by both yourself and Queen Clarisse. When you have finished, you are asked to call the number here and the Chief of Police, the Coroner, a forensic specialist and the investigator assigned to the case wish to meet with you and the Queen privately."
Joseph unsealed the envelope and glanced inside to be sure the papers were from the proper authorities, then he nodded. "Very well." He glanced at one of the monitors and saw that the Portuguese ambassador was just taking his leave of the Queen in her office. "I will take them to her Majesty right away. You say we will each be meeting with the group? Is the Queen allowed to have someone with her? Prince Pierre is still here, I believe, and perhaps should be included in the meeting if the Queen wishes."
"That would be fine, sir. And no, you will not be meeting separately. You are to attend that meeting as well."
"Do you have any idea ...?" Then Joseph broke off. Whatever was in the report was obviously confidential, and he was sure the messenger boy would not be privy to such information. "We will look over the reports and I will inform the authorities when we are ready for the meeting."
O o O o O o
An hour later, Joseph was sitting in the Queen's office on a chair pulled up beside her at the desk, the papers spread out in front of them. Neither of them had said a word. They were both in shock. Joseph closed his eyes and pinched his nose, wishing desperately and futilely that he had looked the reports over before giving them to Queen Clarisse ... or even that he had left them with her and read them later, alone. Then he heard something snap and quickly opened his eyes to see that the Queen had snapped the pencil she had been holding in half. He shot a quick glance at her white face. Her eyes were closed, too.
"Your ..." his voice caught, and he cleared his throat before continuing, "Your Majesty, I think that perhaps ... perhaps we need some time alone ... or would you prefer that I send for Prince Pierre ...?"
"No!" Queen Clarisse's eyes flew open. "NO! Pierre cannot know this. NO ONE must know this! I ..." she swallowed, her eyes going back to the damning words on the paper. Then she continued in a whisper. "I find it almost impossible to believe ... You don't suppose ... no, there couldn't have been a mistake made, could there? Rupert was ... making love ... to An ... to your ... wife ... and the excitement obviously was too much for his heart. There was no sign of force for either ..." Her eyes closed again, and her voice trailed away as she swallowed convulsively a few times.
Joseph wondered if she was feeling as sick as he was, and eyed the waste basket. He thought maybe if he could throw up, he might, just might, feel a little better. The report had been very explicit. They had obviously come together frantically and hastily. The picture rose unwanted in his mind's eye, and he knew he was going to lose it. He grabbed for the waste basket and neatly deposited his lunch into it. Then the Queen was retching into it with him, tears streaming down her cheeks as she shook with her convulsive movements. Without thinking, Joseph put his arm around her for support.
"Done?" he whispered a moment later.
The Queen nodded slightly, and Joseph put the waste basket down, still keeping his arm around her with his head resting against hers. Both were taking deep breaths.
"What are we going to do?" the Queen asked, not moving away from him. "This can't become public knowledge!"
"No," he agreed.
"Joseph? Did you even suspect ...? I mean, I never met ... Nan. How could Rupert have known her? How could he have ...? How long were they ...? Was this the first time they ...? Oh, Joseph ..." she pulled back slightly, her lovely face distraught. "WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO?"
Joseph couldn't say anything. He had no idea what to do either. He was as much at sea as she was in this tragedy.
"Your life can be changed in a matter of hours, by people you don't even know," Queen Clarisse continued raggedly. "And now I find myself wondering if I ever really knew Rupert!"
"I feel the same about Nan," Joseph said, bitterly.
"I thought he was my best friend ..." the Queen spoke softly, as if to herself. "Now I feel so confused, so ... so ANGRY at him! That can't be right! He was my HUSBAND!"
Joseph's arm tightened around her unconsciously as he tried to reason through his own confusion and anger. "I guess I believe that we all have the right to be angry with people we love. Our anger doesn't mean we have stopped loving them. We all have to cope with life's problems in our own way. Just because our ways may be different than the ways other people might cope makes no difference."
Suddenly the Queen was crying in his arms, burying her head on his shoulder, her tears soaking through his jacket. Joseph rested his face on her hair and blinked back his own tears. How could Nan and the King have done this to them? Once again he found himself wishing the last few weeks had just been a horrible nightmare and that he would wake up and find that all was well ... that Nan was alive and in love with him, and him alone.
When Queen Clarisse's heart-wrenching sobs had finally died away to occasional hitches in her breath, she pulled away from him self-consciously, searching for a handkerchief and apologizing.
"Please don't apologize, your Majesty. You have the right to cry," Joseph said. Then, from nowhere it seemed, he found himself smiling crookedly at her and saying, "I AM your Head of Security, and if you don't feel safe crying in my arms, where can you release your tension?"
The sound that emerged from the queen's throat was half-laugh, half-sob, then she gathered her control and dignity about her like a cloak and said in a low voice, "Thank you, Joseph. I ... I don't know what I'd do without you. Please ... please don't leave me just yet. I know you might be thinking you should resign and perhaps even leave Genovia because of this, but I'm begging you, please stay. We need each other ... at least, I ... I need you."
How had she known he had been thinking of resigning and fleeing the land until his emotional being was healed? Yet how could he possibly leave her now, knowing she must be feeling exactly as he did, but unable to escape because of her position? Well, if she could be strong enough to stay, so could he. He could do no less. Together they would speak with the authorities, convince them to keep all the details confidential ... and they would find their way again to cope with this new life they so suddenly found themselves living. "I'll be here, your Majesty, as long as you need me," he promised, taking her hand and kissing it gently. Then he stood up and bowed slightly. "If you'll excuse me, I'll summon your ladies' maids and ... and retire for a few moments."
"Thank you, Joseph," she murmured, leaning back in her chair, quite overcome with all the revelations of the past hour.
O o O o O o
Two weeks later, Joseph found himself settling back into a routine at the palace. It made things so much easier for him to be using the provided suite rather than having to make his way to a separate residence every night, especially when so often crises would crop up in the middle of the night. The missing stage hand from the Opera House had returned to Genovia from France where he had been urgently summoned to his mother's deathbed. He had given his statement to the police and was now back at work. Prince Pierre had returned to his parish, being unable to stay away any longer. Prince Philippe, although still in a coma, had been stabilized enough that it had been possible to move him from the Parisian hospital he had been in since the accident back to the palace in Genovia where round-the-clock nursing was provided. Unfortunately, as the days dragged on, it did not seem as if he was ever going to recover fully.
Joseph kept a close eye on the Queen, and when it seemed the strain was too much for her, he would take her some tea and dismiss her ladies' maids and the two would talk ... about the King and Nan, about the Queen's heartbreak and devastation surrounding the condition of the crown prince ... and about small, everyday things like the disease spreading in the pear orchards in Genovia and how some funding might possibly be freed up for research into horticultural issues.
One day, at one such 'tea party', Joseph suggested that she hire an assistant. "You really need somebody who can co-ordinate all the events in your life, your Majesty. I can only do so much."
"I know. I'm sorry, Joseph, I didn't mean to drag you away from your own ..." she began.
"That's not what I meant. I am here for you, and I think you know that. But because I also have to deal with the security issues which arise, I think you need someone to assist in some of these other details. Please, let me call the Genovian Attaché Corps and ask them to send some applicants over."
Queen Clarisse sighed. "Very well. If you really think it's necessary," she said, reluctantly. After all that had happened, she found she was not dealing very well with change, and she was ... yes, she was AFRAID of what might transpire. What if she didn't like any of the people the Attaché Corps sent over? What if the person they selected turned out to be the nosy type who ferreted out the secret she and Joseph had been guarding so assiduously?
Joseph stood to leave, and took her hand, pressing a gentle kiss on it. "I do, your Majesty. For your own sake. I'll go make the call right now."
As it turned out, the Queen's fears were groundless. The Genovian Attaché Corps sent over one applicant only, a young woman in whom they had complete confidence. Charlotte shyly suggested that she work for a year on a trial basis, as if on loan from the Corps, then the position could either be made permanent or she could return to the Corps, no questions asked on either side. And so Charlotte was installed in a suite in the palace as well, her quiet efficiency making life so much easier for the Queen that Joseph congratulated himself daily on his brilliant suggestion.
O o O o O o To Be Continued ...
