Chapter 7 – The secret life of Queen C
Parliament's session had been accessible neither for the press nor for citizens. It was custom that forty five minutes after the end of a so called private session, the Prime Minister and the Chairman of Parliament and sometimes even the Head of State, answered questions from journalists. This gave Viscount Mabrey time to do damage. He made a phone call.
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´This is radio 4U's Lucien's Fiddlesticks with Lucien Dubois. It's Monday, not the best day of the week but my my, didn't we get some nice pictures to brighten our day? You want to say something about them? You know the number folks!´
When 'Three times a lady' faded away, the host introduced Carolina from Antiem, who seemed to quote from Genovian Daily, saying how handsome a couple the Queen and Mystery Man made. Roland from Arles sur Mer said something similar and Sylvie from Pyrus said how romantic it all was. Marcos, a resident of Lupa, told his countrymen that the Queen surely deserved to have some fun.
The Bee Gees filled the air with 'More than a woman'.
Then the show really started.
Lucien: Now who do we have here?
Caller: Why, we know each other Lucien. It is I, Elsie Penworthy!
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In his office in the Castle, Mr Delgana, the spokesman of the Royal House, cursed. He grabbed his writing-block and a pen to take down Elsie's slander in shorthand.
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Lucien: Elsie, what an unexpected pleasure to have you call me.
Elsie: I don't normally do this, but I heard you were talking about those pictures of Her Majesty and a mysterious man, well Lucien, I just had to tell you that I, Elsie Penworthy, think those pictures are beautiful. If only because the Queen really looks great in riding gear.
Lucien: Indeed she does. But that's not the only thing, is it Elsie? Tell me girl!
Elsie: Well, I know more about the gentleman in Queen Clarisse's company.
Lucien: You do? Shoot!
Elsie: The man is a foreigner!
Lucien: Spanish?
Elsie: Nooooooo.
Lucien: French?
Elsie: Not French...
Lucien: Elsie, do you know how many countries there are? Tell me!
Elsie: He is Dutch.
Lucien: A Dutch treat!
Elsie: Haha. Well, he surely looks like a treat. I wouldn't mind going riding with him.
Lucien: Elsie! You naughty you.
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Viscount Mabrey grinned. He could always rely on Elsie. He stared at the papers on his desk. He had not been able to make the Ice Queen melt but Elsie might very well accomplish it. If only he were a fly on the wall of Her Majesty's office...
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Elsie: (...) and I also know he's tough.
Lucien: Oh?
Elsie: Yeah, some women like that.
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Charlotte, who had to strain her ears, for she dared not increase the volume of her radio, moaned. This was horrible! She very much hoped that Her Majesty wasn't listening to radio 4U.
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Elsie: (...) army officer. And that's all I know.
Lucien: All? Elsie, you seem to have revealed everything there is to know about this not so mysterious man! Why, I think you'll even be able to tell me what his favourite colour is!
Elsie: From the way he stared in the Queen's eyes I would say it is blue.
Lucien: Hahaha.
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Joe glared at the radio in the security room. He knew that his Queen and Coligny had just been standing together and he had heard them chatting about horses. Because pictures are made in a split second a passing glance now seemed so much more. Joe couldn't blame General Coligny for the pictures being made but deep down he hoped that Queen Beatrix would give the man a tongue-lashing. Something told him she'd be good at it.
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Elsie: (...) people of Genovia are just dying to know who managed to get so... near Her Majesty. It was my duty to tell them. Lucien dear, I need to get back to work. Good luck with your show!
Lucien: Thank you Elsie.
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The Viscount laughed aloud. Thank you indeed! "I need to get back to work." Capital!
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As the song 'Hungry eyes' filled the kitchen, the cook shook her head.
´Oh! That woman is horrible!´ she said with disgust.
´She makes it seem so ugly. Bah!´
The Queen's other servants agreed. True, the idea of their employer having an admirer, had pleased them all. But that was all the man should be. Becoming her lover was way out of line. Watch, don't touch. The way that horrid Elsie described it, made it sound cheap. And cheap was a description that did NOT fit Her Majesty.
´There are thousands of pictures of the Queen and some or other man,´ the cook told her colleagues. ´I really don't understand how those callers can think that this particular man is more than a someone.´
´Yes,´ Capras replied, anxious to explain things. ´The General's horse happened to be ready at the same time as Her Majesty's animal. And they went outside. That's all it is. I mean, if I had been on that picture, would you have believed that I was her...´ He blushed.
The cook laughed: ´No sweetie, I would sooner believe the Pope to be a female drug lord!´
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Her Majesty had summoned Mr Delgana, Mr Jonas and the Prime Minister. She quickly came to the point. ´We can argue about which member of Parliament informed Miss Penworthy, but there is hardly a point in that and certainly no time for it. Prime Minister, you will have to face the press. They will question you about the pictures. What do you plan to say?´
Mr Motaz cleared his throat and read from a paper:´Her Majesty spent the weekend with Her Majesty the Queen of the Netherlands. The gentleman on the pictures is the head of the Military House of the Queen of the Netherlands, who accompanied Queen Beatrix on her trip to Paris last week and to Burgos this week and who naturally stayed with her during the weekend.´
´What?´
´Ma'am?´
´General Coligny is in Her Majesty's employment. Her taking him with her suggests that he is on duty. There is no need to explain or even mention his presence.´
´Yes Your Majesty. If I may?´
The Queen raised an eyebrow.
´Perhaps it is a good idea for you to come as well?´
´Let's not give it more attention than it deserves.´
Mr Motaz, feeling very stupid, nodded. ´I am sorry ma'am.´
´Mr Delgana, I would like you to be present in a ante-room when the press are interviewing the Prime Minister and Mr Delgando. Please come to my office at five o'clock, to inform me about the coverage of this subject.´
´Yes ma'am.´
´I also want you to pass all articles about it to Mr Jonas. Mr Jonas, I need you to inform me once we might have a law case.´
´Understood Your Majesty.´
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On a monitor in the security room Joe watched the three gentlemen leave the Queen's office. Soon afterwards he was asked to join the Queen to discuss the final arrangements for the opening night of a play Her Majesty would attend that evening. On his way to her office he met colonel Frerer, who'd been summoned also. Joe figured that the colonel acted as a chaperone.
From the moment the Queen had touched the back of his neck Joe had reason to think that all his dreams would come true. When travelling from Spain to Pyrus, he'd pictured how they would continue. He knew that he should leave taking the next step to her but it didn't stop him from fantasizing: They would arrive late in the evening, near midnight. He would escort her to her suite. She would say: Joseph, we were interrupted. Cheek cupped, hand on shoulder, hand on waist, stand closely. Soft lips. First kiss. Long, sweet. Of course he had told himself that she might be tired, and that the Castle was not El chalet. Before entering her suite, the Queen had turned around to give him a warm smile, but she had only caressed him with her eyes.
´Goodnight Joseph.´
´Goodnight Your Majesty.´
The Castle is not El chalet.
He could wait. How long ago was it that had he first realised she was everything a woman should be? And more? After all this time, he'd almost got a kiss, which had left him happy rather than frustrated.
After Parliament's session he'd become afraid. If he would be your own servant it would be even worse. Mabrey's words refused to leave his mind. He had waited in a corridor, listening to what was going on in the House of Parliament via a speaker. What if she starts to think that the Viscount is right?
´Joseph?´ Her voice broke in on his thoughts. She sounded impatient.
´I'm sorry ma'am...´
´I want enough guards to provide a wall against the press if need be.´
He nodded and cleared his throat. ´Yes ma'am. I will see to it.´
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The air was sizzling with anticipation. The story was just too good. Most journalists didn't really believe the Queen to have an affair. After all, didn't the nickname Ice Queen say it all? But still...
´She does look fine in riding gear,´ someone remarked.
´Oh yeah. The general surely thought so.´
´I doubt he stands a chance.´
´Who knows. Maybe she's not frigid after all.´
´You are sexist pigs,´ a female reporter commented.
The men were about to answer her when limousines rounded the corner. The journalists readied themselves for the Queen's arrival. A picture of Her Majesty on the front page always sold more papers and a story about the Queen being in a romantic mood sold many more copies, so today's sales figures had proved.
The Genovians cheered when the left door of the Queen's car opened. The Prime Minister stepped out. He walked to the right door of the car and gallantly helped the Queen out. The volume of the cheering increased. Flash lights.
´Her Majesty is wearing a Greek style long black dress,´ a radio reporter told his listeners. ´No jewellery I think, but she looks radiant anyway.´
´No hickeys, but she looks hot anyway,´ another reporter joked for the benefit of his peers.
The Queen waved at her people and ascended the stairs.
´What are those bloody guards doing there? Can't even get a decent picture!´ Mr Hickey complained. ´And Fatty Motaz isn't helping! Ma'am! Your Majesty! This way please!´
His request was the start: one question after the other was fired at the Queen, though none had to do with present pictures being made. Her Majesty heard every remark and ignored all of them (´Is there really nothing going on between you and Ben?´,´Will you see him again?´), only responding to Mr Ramsey from The Pyran Courier, who politely asked her if she looked forward to seeing 'Maria Stuart' by the Royal Genovian Playhouse.
´Very much Mr Ramsey,´ she kindly replied, ´I am glad that this esteemed company managed to survive for three hundred years already and can celebrate this in their beautifully restored theatre.´
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The people inside the theatre were just as curious as the reporters, but they were not at liberty to shout questions at their regal Queen. Had many been imaginative enough to picture her on very friendly terms with a man, looking at her now, it seemed that if ever the stork had delivered children, it would have been the princes Pierre and Philippe. The Queen having a lover? Seriously! She looked as untouchable as a statue.
Joe accompanied Her Majesty to her box. Knowing everyone was watching her even more closely than normally, he felt it wouldn't be smart to place his hand against the low of her back when guiding her through the crowd, much as he loved the feeling of her body under his hand.
The Queen missed Joseph's touch. She knew that even her bodyguard being near her might cause new gossip. She hoped Joseph thought likewise, but she feared that he was upset with her.
After the – excellent – performance Joe watched the Queen talk to the actors and director. He could still feel her fingers on his neck. But he couldn't imagine her to do that again any day soon. He hoped that the gossip would soon die away. If he would be your own servant it would be even worse.
Viscount Mabrey, who was in the RGP's board of recommendation, had his back to the Queen, for he could not bare to look at the blonde bitch who'd gotten the upper hand in his playground. Little could he know that he had affected her and that she'd not forgetten what he had said. If he would be your own servant it would be even worse.