§ § § - November 22, 2008
When they returned, Margareta was beaming. "I've never felt so good," she was telling Christian as they came into the house. "And to think I don't need to take amakarna anymore! Now Stina's the only one left in the family who's still taking it." Her face clouded over and she peered at Christian. "Something tells me that when she hears all the symptoms Briella and then I went through, she'll be too afraid to take the cure."
"You never know till you ask her, Magga," Christian said mildly. "But meantime, we have other concerns here. Sit down and tell me what you think about this." He let her greet Leslie, who smiled, and then filled her in on the rumor Ernst had told them about.
Margareta looked amazed. "How long has this rumor been circulating?"
"As far as I could ascertain, less than a week," said Christian, "which can only mean that Ernst has been keeping close track of events in Lilla Jordsö. I haven't been able to track down the ultimate source, and in fact I was about to put through a call to the castle when you called from the hospital." He turned to his wife. "Leslie, my Rose, do you think your father would object to our making the call from his phone line in here? I ask because I'd like to make use of the speakerphone, so that we can all have input."
Leslie thought about it for a moment. "Well, it's kind of a big thing. I'd say go ahead—the phone expenses have been lower than usual this month anyway." She grinned; Christian and Margareta laughed and arose to take the leather chairs in front of the desk. The women watched while he carefully punched out the number, then requested his brother.
As soon as he got a response from Carl Johan, Christian nodded at Leslie, who pushed the button that transferred the conversation to the speakerphone. Christian greeted Carl Johan in jordiska, and there was a bit of small talk before Christian caught him up on Margareta's condition and Margareta and Leslie both bid him hello.
"Good news, for a change," Carl Johan said. "I think it best to wait till the next full week has elapsed and we have official word from Mr. Roarke and everyone else conducting this trial before we release any word here. So...is that why you called?"
"Actually, no," Christian said. "It's a long story, but here's the background." He filled Carl Johan in on the unexpected reunion he'd had with Pelle and Ernst, whom Carl Johan remembered, to Christian's surprise. "Now...I took them through our house for a grand tour, and we were chatting a bit before I brought them back to pack for their trip home. It seems that Ernst heard a rumor that's been floating around the jordiska media for some few days now. Something about Daniel preparing to take Anders back to Sweden permanently."
"Oh, we're well aware of it," Carl Johan said, sounding tired. "We simply haven't dealt with it, because Daniel is dragging his feet on an official announcement. But he's speaking quite seriously about making the move."
"So the rumor is true!" Margareta exclaimed.
"To some extent," her uncle quantified, "so don't reveal anything yet."
"How does the family feel about it—particularly Kristina?" Christian wanted to know. "After all, Anders is her only grandson, and he was Briella's child too."
Carl Johan released a deep sigh. "To tell you the truth, I don't think she'd notice. You see, Briella's death has thrown Kristina into the same mental fog she was in after Arnulf died. I'm sorry you had to find out this way, Magga, but the fact is that we've taken her to a specialist, and he's afraid the shock of Briella's death is too much for her and that this time she won't come back to reality."
"This is turning into a gothic horror novel," Leslie mumbled to herself in English.
"What was that?" Carl Johan asked.
"I have to agree, my Rose," Christian admitted, and repeated her words to his brother, who let out a mirthless chuckle of agreement.
"There have been too many changes in the family in the last decade," said Carl Johan. "At least, that's the general consensus. There was an entire newspaper editorial about it in last Sunday's edition of Sundborgs Nyheter. First, Christian, your leaving the country to marry Leslie and live with her in her country. Then Arnulf's death and Briella's coronation. Ceci and Axel being killed in that car wreck. The attempts by the Komainen family on Leslie's life. And further, Rudolf's minor sex scandals before he got involved with Louisa; Roald's and Briella's sudden marriages; Esbjörn seemingly returning from the dead; Magga coming out as lesbian; the damned oil scandal; and now Briella's murder, the preliminary coronation of a child king, and my investiture as Prince Regent. There seem to be some influential people who think it's time the family settled down to more mundane and traditional things, and among those is the question of your coming home for good, Christian."
Leslie gasped, and Christian looked sharply at her. "What's the matter, Aunt Leslie?" Margareta asked.
"Ernst said something about that at the house," Leslie said, staring at a startled Christian. "It was when you were showing Pelle the boys' fort in the backyard. He wondered if we thought we'd ever move back to Lilla Jordsö, and he mentioned some of the changes too, though it went only as far as the throne frequently changing hands and how there've been so many deaths in the family." She swallowed. "I...I know we've never talked about it, but I think it was all because it depends on Father. Someday he'll retire, and then what?"
Margareta's mouth was hanging open; Christian looked troubled, his gaze unfocused. From the telephone speaker, Carl Johan said, "Leslie, you know perfectly well that this is not an obligation on your part. It's only the opinion of a newspaper editor using his forum to air his personal wishes about something that really isn't his business to begin with."
"That may be," Christian ruminated, half to himself, "but I do think it's worth discussing." He looked at his wife and smiled at her. "Don't worry, my Rose, we'll talk about it in private. I know it's not something to take lightly, and we certainly will go over all the possibilities and the aspects of each one." He focused his attention on the speaker then and addressed his brother with, "Of course, Carl Johan, I'm assuming you're ignoring that article. As you said, after all, it's only someone's opinion."
"Naturally...but all the upheavals in the family have been starting cultural earthquakes, in a manner of speaking. People are uneasy with the changes."
"And because they think too many crazy things have happened in this family in the last eight or ten years, now it's time for Uncle Christian and Aunt Leslie to move to Lilla Jordsö?" Margareta asked incredulously. "I know it's up to them in the end—but where in the world would they live? In the castle? In their own house, like Gerhard and Liselotta, and Kai and Stina? Truly, these people are mad. After all that's happened, all they can talk about is watching Daniel and Anders leave and bringing Uncle Christian and Aunt Leslie back home for good."
"We're getting off topic here," Christian said, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache. "The question here was what Daniel plans to do. Hasn't anyone tried to talk to him? Or is he hiding in the royal suite with Anders?"
"Daniel's been grieving heavily, and I'm afraid Anders doesn't really understand in any case. Anna-Laura has had to go in a few times and force him to at least let that poor boy out so that he can have contact with his cousins, but I suspect that in the end Daniel will make the decision to leave. He himself said a couple of evenings ago, in one of his few appearances at the dinner table, that he and Anders really have no further business being here in Lilla Jordsö, with Briella gone. He isn't the monarch born. He's nobility in his own right and has family property in Sweden that he must attend to. Anders, being adopted, has no claim to the jordisk throne, but he is eligible to inherit from Daniel one day. Quite frankly, Daniel would have far more reason to return to Sweden than to remain here, and I'm sure whoever raised this rumor in the first place followed the same line of reasoning. But we can say nothing officially until Daniel informs us of whatever decision he makes. And he hasn't done so yet." Carl Johan sighed. "So our hands are tied."
"I see," Christian murmured. "Well, at least we know the current truth. But I must tell you, Ernst was surprised that no one at home had contacted us in regard to what Daniel may do—it's as if we were the last ones to know, even after the garbage media."
"It was probably some servant," Margareta interjected. "Just as when the full truth of your marriage to Marina LiSciola finally came out, Uncle Christian." She noticed Leslie's questioning look and explained, "After Pappa fired a batch of servants for assorted petty thefts around the castle, one of them provided the full background of the reasons behind that stupid arranged marriage. It came out in an edition of the Sunday Sundborgs Nyheter in the spring of 2000."
Christian laughed. "I remember that very well. Arnulf was scandalized and said something about having been betrayed. I thought it was hilarious, myself; I knew the exact source of much of the information in the article—Marina's rant at Arnulf about what she called 'our joke of a marriage'. So tell me, äldrebror, have any servants been dismissed lately?" At that Leslie giggled too.
"No, none that I'm aware of, but there's a fair amount of turnover, so one of those who quit may well have sold the story. There's little point in speculating; it's been done, and since it's half true anyhow, I see no reason to even devote any attention to it until Daniel makes his decision. And as far as that question about you and Leslie moving back here, we won't even address that; it'll be as though it was never asked. However...perhaps you two would satisfy my curiosity. What, if anything, might compel you to return?"
Christian and Leslie looked at each other, and he nodded at her, with a quizzical look on his face that told her he had no idea himself. She smiled a little and said, "The only thing I can think of would be Father's retirement. And even then I'm not sure. I'm supposed to be his heir, although to tell you the truth, I couldn't really run this island myself. I'd be more inclined to leave that to Rogan."
"I'm sure you won't have to worry about that for some time to come," Carl Johan told them in a tone meant to reassure. "As I said, that's entirely between you two and certainly none of anyone else's business, especially that of an outspoken newspaper editor. And what of your future child—how is your pregnancy, Leslie?"
"I've quit throwing up," Leslie said. "In fact, it's almost too easy—I mean, sometimes I actually forget I'm pregnant. My doctor set me a due date of about May 20."
"Good, keep us informed. Is there anything else?"
"No, but I'd ask that you also keep us informed as to what Daniel decides to do," said Christian. "It bothered me that the garbage media knew about it before I did, I have to admit that. And I'll dispatch e-mails keeping you up-to-date on Magga's condition. If nothing else happens to her between now and the end of the waiting period, she'll probably be on her way home immediately upon gaining release from Rogan and the overseeing physician."
"Well enough. All right, then, take care of yourselves." They all exchanged farewells and cut the connection; Christian, Leslie and Margareta looked at one another, but could find nothing else to say before Roarke came into the house.
"Well," he remarked when they all looked at him in startlement. "Have I interrupted something? If so, I apologize."
"No, nothing at all, Mr. Roarke," Christian said, clearing his throat. "We just finished a conversation with my brother; it seems Briella's widower is considering packing up his son and moving back to Sweden. It wouldn't be unwarranted; there's nothing left for him in Lilla Jordsö with Briella gone, and Anders isn't in line for the throne. He is Daniel's heir, though, so it would make sense for them to go back. He simply hasn't decided yet."
"I see," said Roarke. "Whatever decision he makes, I hope it will bring him some measure of peace. And Your Highness, I see you've been released from the hospital."
"I seem to have a clean bill of health, Mr. Roarke," Margareta said with a broad smile. "It feels very good. I still can't believe I don't need amakarna ever again."
"Poor Stina, she'll feel left out now," Christian said lightly, and they chuckled.
Roarke observed, "I suspect she will eventually decide to go through the cure herself, despite the side effects. Rogan is no happier about them than the trial participants, but it seems that they have unanimously agreed that said effects are worth freeing themselves from amakarna." He consulted his gold pocket watch. "Oh, and Leslie...this would be an excellent time for you to make a check on Mrs. Dawson's fantasy."
Christian and Margareta both seemed to perk up at that. "What fantasy is that?" asked Margareta.
Leslie smiled. "We have a guest who's sailing the Andrea Doria right now."
Margareta looked a little confused, but Christian instantly stood up. "No arguments, not even from you, Mr. Roarke. I'm going too. I know what happened to that ship." He grabbed Leslie's hand and pulled her around the desk till he could draw her in against him.
Leslie grinned. "I'm not objecting. Besides, Father, I wouldn't be surprised if you went and stuck that poor woman on that last fatal voyage. I'm sure she only wanted a nice quiet cruise."
Roarke simply looked at them till they stared quizzically back; then he said quietly, "She is needed there to save a certain life." He met Christian's gaze and said, "Just be careful. Follow Leslie's instructions precisely."
Christian nodded, an eyebrow slightly quirked as if in response to Roarke's words, and turned to his wife. "Let's go, my Rose."
"What was the Andrea Doria?" they heard Margareta ask Roarke as they slipped into the time-travel room. Inside, they looked at each other and laughed.
"I see I'll have to enlighten her a bit further," Christian observed as he watched Leslie scan the room carefully. "My grandparents once took a voyage on that ship, too. What are you looking for?"
"The trigger," Leslie said, squinting at the far wall, then nodding. "Aha, there it is." She took his hand and led him to the far corner, where she put her hand on a European-style door handle that Christian hadn't noticed, pushing down on it. He blinked rapidly and reared back a little as a door swung outward, revealing a long corridor lined with doors that were identical to the one Leslie had just opened. She grinned at his reaction. "Surprised you, did I? Come on, follow me, but stick close."
"I may never learn," Christian murmured, ducking around her so she could close the door behind them. Then he noticed their attire. "Leslie, what in hell...?"
"Hey, you wanted to come," she reminded him, grinning.
"Because you're pregnant and we're on a doomed ship," he retorted.
"Then stop reacting so much. Grab that cart over there and let's deliver the room-service order for Nina Dawson in stateroom 95." She smoothed out her kitchen worker's uniform, watched Christian tug at the tunic of his and snort with derision before pulling the metal cart that waited a few feet away, and led him along the corridor, watching room numbers. Christian muttered under his breath in jordiska the whole way there, but she tuned him out till they had reached their destination, then shot him a warning look that quieted him before she knocked on the door of stateroom 95.
Nina Dawson pulled it open and gasped at sight of them. "Oh! Hi, Leslie..." She gave Christian a stunned look, then glanced both ways along the corridor before urging them inside the room, cart and all. Only then did she venture, "Prince Christian, is that you?"
"It is," he said tersely, throwing Leslie a fulminating look when she gestured at him to start unloading the cart. She winked at him, knowing she'd get an earful later, and turned to Nina, taking in the stateroom as she did.
"Very nice," she murmured. "So how are things going?"
"Well, it's been quite the voyage," Nina remarked with a grin. "I even made a new friend. I've been all over this ship, at least as far as I could get without being turned away by crew or stopped by signs telling me I was in a forbidden area. It's such a shame nobody ever does this anymore in this hurry-up world. What a terrific way to relax."
"The world's changed a lot since the fifties," Leslie agreed. "So...what's your friend's name, then? Where did you meet?"
"In the dining room. Her name's Claire Minton and she has a little girl named Carrie, just the cutest kid. I think they're on the other side of the ship. Listen, I'm sorry about the remarks I made when you brought me to that yacht to send me off...I kind of forgot what Mr. Roarke said, that it's Fantasy Island and all."
Leslie grinned. "No harm done. So you've managed to see everything you can? That's a lot of running around. You must be exhausted."
"I am, but it's been fun. I should've brought a camera—the pictures would have been an amazing souvenir. If only I—" At that second there was a jarring thump and a horrifying groan that seemed to come from the bowels of the ship, and they all had to grab something to stay on their feet. Christian let out a startled curse in jordiska, and Nina stared at Leslie. "What was that?" she demanded.
Leslie knew in that moment that she'd been right about what Roarke had done, and met Nina's gaze with a touch of reluctance; she had to raise her voice over the unearthly moaning and the jostling of the ship. "The collision," she said.
"You mean—you mean this is July 25, 1956?" Nina shouted. "You put me on the last voyage of the Andrea Doria?"
The groaning and bumping ceased, mercifully, only to be followed by a sudden sickening tilt to starboard. Again they stumbled; the cart began to roll toward the door. Cursing, Christian bent forward against the list and struggled uphill till he had grabbed Leslie's hand; Nina was staring around the cabin with huge eyes, her hands clamped against the sides of her head. "I can't believe you did this!"
"You have a life to save," Leslie shouted back at her, losing her temper. "That's why you're here, now, at this moment—so get out there and save that life!"
Galvanized into movement, Nina half-skidded down the slope of the tilted floor and found life jackets in a closet; at Leslie's sharp command, she pulled one on and fastened it, then took the rest in an armful when Leslie handed them to her. All the while Christian watched, a shocked, incredulous look on his face. When Nina made her hesitant way out the door, he glared at Leslie. "And what are we to do?"
She glared back and barked, "Follow me, dammit, will you?" Shoving the cart out of the way, she seized his arm and pulled him toward the door Nina had slammed shut; with a mental word or two to Roarke, she drew in a deep breath and yanked the door open again. On the other side, to her immense relief, was the time-travel room; she tugged Christian forward, shoved him through, followed him and dragged the door firmly shut after her.
"I don't believe it!" Christian snapped, gaping at her with a mix of horror and outrage. "Can't you just grant someone a fantasy without putting them in danger? Get out here!" He snatched her hand into a death grip and towed her through into the study, where Roarke and Margareta were still talking; they stared as Christian hauled Leslie through the door and began to rant. "That was a hell of a maneuver, Mr. Roarke! How could you do that? You sent Leslie back to that doomed ship right at the moment of the collision! What's wrong with you? Can you never have a fantasy without some mortal danger involved?"
"Herregud, Uncle Christian," said Margareta, astonished.
"Christian, stop it!" Leslie yelled. "Give him a chance to explain!"
Roarke had arisen from his seat and was waiting with chilly patience for the chaos to die down; when Christian turned an expectant glare on him, he said, "As I told you and Leslie just before you left, Mrs. Dawson is there to save a life. That life will surely go down with the ship unless our guest completes her fantasy as fate wills."
The mention of fate stilled Christian altogether; he scowled, but subsided. "If it's fate's caprice rather than yours, that makes it no less objectionable."
"Then take up your argument with fate," Leslie shot out, fed up. "I think you forgot that you asked to come with me, Christian Enstad! We were never in any danger, and if Mrs. Dawson plays her part, she won't be, either! For someone who was going to explain to his niece about a little family history, you seem to have forgotten history in general!" She stalked toward Roarke's desk, shaking her head in disgust.
"Why don't you leave him alone?" Margareta broke in sternly, catching Leslie's startled attention. "Can't you see he's been scared to death? Just look at him!" She gestured at Christian, whose adrenaline had run out and who had abruptly sunk onto the nearest seat, elbows on knees, head in hands, fingers half buried in his hair. They could see him shaking, and he was breathing heavily. As Leslie stared, Margareta pinned her with a glare and demanded, "Exactly what happened back there?"
"The collision," said Leslie in a dazed tone. "The moment the Stockholm rammed the Andrea Doria. We felt the jolt, and heard the groaning, and then the list..." She closed her eyes. "I...I knew I had to deliver Father's message before we could get out of there. Maybe that was the only thing that kept me calm. Oh...oh no..." Delayed reaction set in; she jammed her hand against her mouth and raced upstairs, where she lost the evening meal almost before she could get into the bathroom. Once her stomach had emptied itself, she sank to her knees on the floor and burst into tears. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew it was a last-straw situation: all the stress of Christian's enforced trip to Boston and what he had been through there; the tragic first trial of Rogan and Marina's serum, which had brought about the murders of Gabriella and Marina; the funeral in Lilla Jordsö and Leslie's fears about the circumstances surrounding Gabriella's death; their worry over Margareta's hallucinations during the past week; and the symptoms of her own pregnancy. She knew, too, that undoubtedly Christian's explosion had come about as a result of all these same things; being in the wrong place at the wrong moment during a fantasy might be a minor thing compared to all the rest, but as Leslie well knew, it was often the smallest things that finally broke you down. She had reached her own limit now, and couldn't find the strength even to stop crying, much less get back onto her feet.
Someone slid an arm over her shoulders and gathered her in close, and she could tell by the sandalwood scent that it was Christian. "It's all right, my Rose, it's all right. I'm here. I'm sorry. I ödets namn, all we seem to have done the last few weeks is apologize to each other for all manner of slights. Please stop crying, my darling."
She coughed a couple of times and huddled against him. "I'm sorry for shouting at you, my love...I just...everything finally f-fell ap-apart."
"I know it did, my Rose, I know—it did for me as well. Shhh, it's all right, it'll get better now. Magga's back to normal and we're past it all. We needed this release, I think. Maybe that's why Mr. Roarke allowed me to accompany you into that fantasy with no fuss at all." She heard him chuckle briefly. "I wondered about it for a moment or two when we first went back, but then the collision happened, and only now in the aftermath can I see what he must have been trying to do. Don't they say it's the little things that get to you the most? Perhaps he realized that and set us up for this."
Leslie lifted her head and regarded him through swimming eyes. "Do you think you would've reacted so violently if it hadn't been for everything else that's happened?"
Christian grinned and observed, "I suspect Mr. Roarke wouldn't have let me go at all, for there wouldn't have been any need—so I don't know how I would have reacted under other circumstances. Don't cry anymore, my darling, all right? Ach, it just occurred to me." His grin lingered as he gently brushed away her tears with one thumb. "Turning me into a kitchen steward aboard the Andrea Doria...your father must have had one hell of a private laugh over that. He does have a peculiar sense of humor."
She let out a shaky little giggle and rested her head on his shoulder. "I kind of thought you overreacted to the idea that you were playing a servant. I know you hate seeing me cry, my love, but I'm pregnant, so I guess I'm going to be more prone to tears."
"You weren't so prone to them when we were expecting the triplets," he remarked.
"Every pregnancy's different," Leslie said. "Even in the same woman, each pregnancy will be different—that's what Dr. Hannaford said when I asked her about the morning sickness and the bloating and all those other symptoms I had with the triplets. She said I might be more or less sick, more or less weepy, more or less bloated, than the first time around, so I had to make allowances for that. Father said I was very fretful while you were gone, and that was before anybody knew I was pregnant." She considered it. "Funny, he was as surprised as anybody else to hear it. Normally he'd sense it before there were even any signs. Maybe he's been stressed out too, in his own way."
"Then perhaps we all owe each other some apologies," Christian said, bracing himself and then rising, pulling her up with him. "Here, let's make you a little more presentable, and we'll go back down and have a little discussion."