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Standard disclaimer.
The following afternoon, Gwen found an unobtrusive place, towards the front of the crowd, waiting for Prince Andrew's appearance.
With a mixture of joy in him and heartache at the knowledge, she would be leaving the next day, she stood with the citizens of Wales.
The queen came out, dressed in a red robe and her dazzling crown, and offered a brief greeting to the warm crowd.
Gwen sensed, great affection and respect for the queen.
But, there was after all, a lot to celebrate.
The woman had given birth to two children, raised seven in total and survived the loss of a child and her husband.
She'd ruled under the threat of violence and pockets of devastation and somehow, still managed to keep the country at peace.
Gwen caught sight of Arthur's brother, Alan, standing beside the military second in command, stoically, as his wife and two little girls sat behind him.
Just then, Arthur approached the microphone, and the crowd erupted in applause.
Her heart clenched at the sight of him.
He emanated power and strength, in public and private.
In private, though, she had seen and loved another side of him.
Her throat grew tight with emotion.
She wished things were different.
She wished she could stay, even though, it wouldn't be wise for her future.
Francis had confided to her just this morning, that rumors about her and Arthur, had begun to swirl around the palace.
Pretty soon, there would be a leak, and the press would find out, and Arthur would lose his precious privacy.
Her eyes stung with un shed tears.
She couldn't be a part of hurting him.
She wouldn't be.
That was the reason, she would finish packing her clothes, this afternoon and be gone tomorrow.
She had given what she could, not near enough to last a lifetime, but she couldn't stay any longer without causing damage.
"Good citizens of Wales, it is my great honor to introduce my son, Prince Andrew, who will deliver a special message, on this day, set aside to honor the great citizens of Wales."
Gwen watched, as Andrew approached the microphone and search the crowd.
She smiled, just in case he was looking for her and prayed that he would be okay.
He took a big breath and began to speak.
He delivered the speech perfectly, and she let out a whoop of happiness at the end.
She gave him a thumbs-up. He must have caught sight of her, because, he smiled and return the signal.
"Do you know the young prince?" a man in front of her asked, as the crowd went wild.
"Kinda...sorta," she said, beaming when the crowd started chanting,
"Encore, encore!"
"Darn, we didn't plan for this," she muttered.
Andrew stepped in front of the microphone again and the crowd quieted.
"The citizens of Wales rock!"
Gwen laughed, and the crowd once again roared.
She gave another thumbs-up and the man in front of her snapped a picture.
Andrew echoed the signal, and the man took his picture, too.
Fear knotted in Gwen's stomach.
She watched the man turn towards her, probably seeking a comment, but she backed him, and stumbled towards the back of the crowd.
Arthur would not be pleased, she thought, walking as fast as she could.
She could only pray, her photo wouldn't turn out.
Two hours later, Arthur, thrilled with his son's success, entered Gwen's room. He picked her up and spun her around.
"He was amazing, incredible. The queen still doesn't quite understand the term rock, but she's very pleased."
"I'm very glad," she said quietly. "I'm very, very glad for all of you." Hearing her muted tone, he studied her.
"I thought you would want to celebrate. This is a huge success for you, too."
"Drew did the work," she simply said. Confused, Arthur glanced around her room and noticed her suitcase on the bed. His heart sank.
"Why are you packing?" She inhaled, as if visibly trying to calm herself.
"My flight leaves tomorrow."
"Absolutely not," he said.
"My assignment is complete."
"You cannot leave," he told her, struggling with an odd sensation, that combined desperation and flat out denial.
"I must leave," she told him. "Rumours have started about you and me. It's only a matter of time, before people outside the palace hear. I can't allow that."
"I'm not afraid of rumours," he said, trying to identify the odd sensation he felt. Sweating, he realized in shock. He was sweating. No one made him sweat.
"Not only that, I got caught in another non-boring moment today, and I'm afraid the press will go for the jugular, once the photo is out."
"Photo?"
"I was a bit demonstrative, when Drew gave his speech," she said, biting her lip. "After I screamed and whistled and gave the thumbs-up, a reporter snapped my picture and started asking questions. I ran away," she added quickly. "But..."
A plan came to mind.
Arthur looked into her brown eyes and put his hands on her arms.
"Will you do something for me, if I ask you?" He saw the fear in her eyes soften.
"I'll do any thing...except stay," she said.
"Three more days," he said, willing her to agree. She shook her head, and he began to sweat again.
"Bad," she said. "I really should go."
"Three days," he repeated. "Is it too much to give out of your life?" Her eyes grew shiny.
"You don't know how hard this is for me," she whispered.
Arthur ached for her. He hated seeing her in pain.
"Three more days," he repeated. And she nodded.
"No more than that," she said, her gaze full of warning. "Absolutely no more than three days."
He kissed her firmly on her lips, then pulled back.
"Excuse me. I have a pressing meeting, but I want you to come to my quarters later."
Ignoring her protests, he headed down the hall, to put the palace PR department to work.
After an hour with his top three press aides, he knew he had laid the groundwork for his success.
Family demands, however, continued to plague him.
Morganna wanted to discuss a way to return to the States.
Henry was already leaving for a professional symposium there and his other brother, had sent a fax, requesting, the assignment as Wales' diplomatic representative, to the United States.
Everyone wanted to go to America, Arthur thought. His mother was going to flip.
The queen on the other hand, had insisted on proudly showing pictures of her newest grandchild, to all who worked and resided in the palace.
She was pleased to give a full report on the parents, too, as she walked through the halls of the royal household.
By the time Arthur retired to his quarters, Gwen was nowhere in sight.
Although he missed her, he knew tomorrow was going to be a very busy day for her.
He had big plans for Guinevere James and she was damn well going to need her rest.
As soon as the morning paper hit the front step, Arthur ordered it brought to him.
With satisfaction, he read of his son's triumph.
His heart swelled, at the sight of the photos of Andrew giving the thumbs-up sign and at the sight of sweet Guinevere, her love and joy emanating from her eyes.
He pored over the article praising his son and the other article, lower on the page, but still prominent, revealing the impact of Gwen's tutoring on him.
The article detailed her impressive academic credentials.
And the resourceful reporter, had even managed to get quotes, from some of the citizens who had met Gwen, at the library's adult literacy program and the clinic his son had also visited.
Arthur knew Andrew had once been viewed as a sad, lonely child, after his mother had died.
The people who had felt sorrow for him, now shared in his victory and his happiness.
And the woman who had helped make it happen was Gwen.
Arthur smiled, because, Guinevere James had just become a national treasure.
Arthur downed the last of his coffee and tucked the newspaper under his arm, for his meeting with the queen.
The queen tossed him a sideways glance, as he entered the room.
"I've already read it," she said, of the paper.
"Including the article about Guinevere?" he asked. She nodded regally.
"Amazing, how the press got access to all that information, in such a short time."
"Not really," Arthur said. "We have an excellent PR department."
"Arthur, she's not right for the job of your wife. Your wife must be poised and self-controlled. She must defer to you and support you in all matters. She must be above reproach. She must respect royal protocol."
He stuck his hands in his pockets.
"That's what the advisors have told me for years."
"And the advisors are correct."
"The problem is, the advisors don't have to marry my wife." The queen absorbed that comment.
"I am not at all swayed," she told him. "But I am listening." He nodded.
"I didn't plan to love her and would never have chosen her for my wife."
"Why do you choose her now?"
He searched for the words.
How could he possibly explain this?
"She is argumentative," he said, "But, I've never met a woman who delivers a more sincere apology, than Guinevere. She's impatient with protocol, because, she's impatient with anything, that interferes with my happiness. She believes, I deserve to be happy. She doesn't love me because I'm royalty. She loves me in spite of the fact, that I am royalty. She loves Arthur...the man," he said, certain he was bungling this. But he went on.
"She makes my worst day better. She takes the grind out of ruling. I'm a better man because of her."
The queen silently studied her son, her arms folded.
"Your father did that for me. I have missed him," she said, her voice quiet.
She lifted her head to gaze at Arthur.
"I will see her this afternoon," she told him and Arthur knew he was halfway there.
Later that day...
"I still don't understand why your mother wants to see me," Gwen said, as Arthur led her towards a front parlor. "She can't stand me."
"She's grateful for your work with Andrew," he said.
"Drew did the hard part." She felt a sick feeling, as she stopped, just outside the parlor door.
"Arthur, I really don't want to talk to your mother. I'm only going to be here two more days. Can't I go to the beach, or something, instead?"
"My darling, this isn't optional," he told her, as the assistant opened the door. Gwen fought a slice of panic.
"I don't want to do this," she whispered desperately.
"You'll be fine," he told her, and kissed her. And then, "I'll be here, when you're done."
Gwen tried to draw courage from his strength, as she faced the parlor.
Inhaling deeply, she told herself, she would only have to face the woman once.
At least this time, she was doing it sans Elvis, the beagle.
Stay safe, stay happy, stay home and stay blessed. Much love to you.