Author's Note: Thank you, thank you, for your reviews. We're nearing the end of this story (not much to go) and I hope you enjoy this chapter because I loved writing it, truly. I hope it does the story justice and I'd love to know if you think so. If you can, please leave a review. Otherwise I really hope you like it.

Anna tilted her head to the side and then towards Lily.

"Is she okay?"

Lily shrugged, "She's upset."

"So would I be, if I'd been played so blindingly," she muttered.

Anna thought of the beautiful wedding dress, hanging in preparation for the wedding in the morning, and thought about her mother and father for some bizarre reason. Her father had said nothing to her, absolutely nothing, but this morning she'd heard Olivia telling Priscilla he had handed in his resignation to the queen.

She didn't know what it meant but the fact her mother had retired early yesterday, and she'd seen a maid going to her room moments later with a bottle of wine, was not a good sign. In fact, it was a terrible sign.

"I want to kill Nicholas."

Anna nodded and snapped out of her own thoughts, "He isn't worth it. Trust me."

"Still, I could disembowel him while you read him the charges our own court has drawn against him."

"You have a very active imagination," Anna laughed.

"I just think the whole thing's barbaric, no offence to your country's great traditions or anything."

"You know, my mother had an arranged marriage," she said to Lily, "I don't think she was ever truly happy. Not really. No, I know she wasn't."

"So you think it's a bad idea for Mia to do it."

She shrugged, "I don't know. I just know that my mother wasn't happy and neither was my father."

At that moment Pierre came into the family sitting room. He'd disappeared an hour or so ago, and she knew he must have gone to the chapel to pray for guidance. Guidance for what, she wanted to ask, guidance from whom Pierre?

"She's with mother just now, and Andrew."

Anna nodded, "I think she's an idiot to do this."

"And you're entitled to your opinion Anna," he said softly, taking a coffee from the sideboard, "But she's made her choice."

"I am, yes," she answered snootily then lowered her eyes, "Sorry P."

"It's alright. We're all a bit tense," he touched her knee.

Lily stood then, sensing something unsaid, "I'm going to go and see if she needs me."

They both nodded and waited until the door closed. She could barely keep it in any longer.

"He handed his resignation in."

Her brother paused to look out into the gardens, then nodded.

"Will you speak to her, please?"

"No," he said softly, "No. I spoke to Joseph last night. He is determined about it and asking mama isn't a clever idea. They are dealing with too much right now in any case."

"I feel like I'm finding out all over again," she suddenly admitted, tears making her windpipe tight, "I feel like they lied to me for years again. I thought maybe she would say yes. Maybe she wanted to marry him."

He shook his head, "They didn't lie to you. The thing is, we'll never know the half of it, not really. Our timeline isn't theirs. Our understanding isn't the same as theirs."

He leaned over and kissed her forehead.

It doesn't look like it Anna and I am sorry."

She was grateful, at least, that her brother didn't lie.

She nodded and stared into her now cold tea, "Would you want them to be together?"

He laughed a little mirthless laugh, "More than I ever wanted my parents to be together, to be honest."

"Ouch," she muttered, "That's a sore indictment."

"I love your father," he whispered, "And I am grateful that he kept her afloat through most of my childhood. That he loved my brother and I as we needed to be loved and looked after. Anna, I knew from the moment you were born that you weren't Rupert's and I was pleased. I was pleased she'd done something stupid, something wild. It made me have hope for her. Sin or not, it saved her."

Anna laughed at his bringing it round to faith, "But infidelity is a sin."

"One that Rupert committed long before Clarisse."

"That's very Old Testament of you," she said darkly.

He pulled her towards him, "Listen, Anna. Whatever happens they'll love you. They will always love you."

"I know that. I just want them to love each other."

-0-

The vestibule at the back of the church was surprisingly sound proof, setting aside the noise of a country clamouring for a public celebration. She was standing facing him, about to watch her granddaughter marry a man she did not love and watch the man she loved walk off forever. Yet he couldn't bring himself to comfort her or to tell her that her choice not to recognise their love publicly was the sorest thing she could have done. He was so tired, so tired of the lies and the secrecy. He had tendered his resignation after her gentle, but cowardly, rejection. And now he stood on a precipice of something totally unknown. He hadn't had the guts to tell Anna. He couldn't bear to imagine the disappointment on her face.

"I cannot convince you to stay, can I?"

She clutched her gloves to her chest and toyed with the silk and he could see terror in her face.

"I've stayed for a very long time," he traced his fingers over the lead strips of the ancient glass, "I cannot stay any more my darling, despite how much I want to."

"You promised me you would never leave," she fell listlessly against the chair.

"Why now?" He turned to her, trying to supress his anger from rearing up into his mouth, "Why not two days ago, when my resignation landed on your desk?"

"Because I was hurt."

He nodded and laughed darkly, "You were hurt. I've written that letter time and time again. Every time I never handed it to you because I couldn't because it hurt so bloody much. Never once have I made you consider my feelings, because my feelings have always been second to yours. The relief I felt when I finally got the courage to do it…"

She recoiled from the pain in his words but it hit her square in the chest anyway, leaving her breathless. He could see it in her eyes as the light went out, the last fragment of hope.

"Clarisse," he looked into the coloured light, "It's my last letter, ever. It's the last correspondence, the last kiss, the last vow, the last hope all rolled into one. It's the last part of me I can give to our secret without breaking."

He turned to go but was stalled by her whisper, "What about Anna?"

He couldn't look at her. He was too frightened her beauty would make him take it back.

"I've already told her we didn't make it. All this for a garden of earth…?" His voice caught, "You were worth every moment of pain, every lie. You always will be. Don't think I don't love you Clarisse but I can't love lies any more. She knows we didn't make it. I think that's the saddest thing of all; we didn't make it in the end."

She said nothing but he heard her whimpering tears as he closed the door on her and on a secret he'd held to himself for over thirty years.

-0-

Anna watched her mother's trembling hands, older than they once were, but gripping her father's as if it'd never been a sin, as if it had never been wrong.

And it hadn't been wrong, she was sure of that.

Their wedding rings glittered above everything, above the applause of the congregation, above the shock of their gentle kiss, above their shy laughter as they exchanged vows they'd lived by for a very long time.

For better and for far worse.

Pierre beamed at her from the altar – a makeshift best man - and she wondered what it must look like, from their perspective. Was there shock in the congregation or happiness? Pierre winked too and took their mother's hand. She wanted to go up there but she knew she couldn't. Anna knew she'd always have to be a secret, or at least her beginning would need to be. But she understood and she could live with that. She had found ways to navigate it and she would continue to.

"Finally," she found herself repeating in a whisper.

"What?" Helen asked.

"Oh nothing," she turned to her niece's mother, "Do you have a tissue?"

Helen pulled a clean tissue from her bag and offered her it.

"Are you alright?"

"Mmm," she swiped tears away, "Just happy."

"It's lovely," Helen agreed, nursing a fussing Trevor.

"It is."

The church cleared quickly, the press amongst the congregation going to file the most sensational story in the history of Renaldi rule, those who approved heading to the palace for the celebrations originally intended for Andrew and Amelia, and those who disapproved skulking off to mourn the state of their monarchy and their old whore of a queen.

A reaction that had to happen, Anna knew, but one she was never going to like.

She waited until the church was clear and sank down to her knees on the pew and prayed to the God she knew had to be somewhere. The God who had granted them a second chance at something.

"Lady Anna," Charlotte was beside her a few minutes later, "Obviously the plans have changed quite dramatically-"

"But look at your grin Charlotte!"

The assistant laughed, "Oh! It's wonderful. Please, your car is waiting. The princess has insisted on travelling in the limo with yourself and Father Pierre and has given the Queen and Joseph the carriage."

Anna stood up, "He'll love that."

Charlotte laughed and led her out to the waiting car.

Amelia's dress was balled up between her legs and her veil was discarded on the facing seat of the limo. She edged towards the partition gracelessly as Anna climbed in, falling over and forcing Anna to catch her.

"Lars, I can't go to the front like this, could you please drop us at the kitchen. Anyway, I want Grandma and Joe to get all the attention."

Pierre laughed as she sat back, "That's one thing they don't want."

Anna was still quiet, scarcely able to believe what she'd seen just minutes ago. Her fingers still shook, settling nervously on her pretty clutch bag.

"Anna, are you alright?"

She looked at her brother, her mouth hanging open, and nodded.

"Shut your mouth princess," he muttered kindly, tipping his finger up against her chin, "Your prayers have been answered."

Amelia looked at her then Pierre, realisation alighting on her face.

"You wanted them to…," Amelia mused, "I mean, I did too. That's why I told her she deserved her fairy-tale ending but I didn't think…well, I suppose it's obvious they love each other. Isn't it wonderful? I think they've been in love for years, don't you? I mean it's patently obvious, wouldn't you say?"

Pierre slid the partition up, effectively shutting the three of them off from the drivers in front.

"Anna has a vested interest," he said slowly and Anna could feel his eyes assessing her reaction.

She shook her head.

"Tell her. She should know."

"Know what?"

Amelia sounded alarmed. It wasn't fair to do that, not when she had just experienced the biggest wash of relief she'd ever felt, Anna imagined.

"It doesn't matter," Anna said feebly, tears threatening her.

"It does," Pierre leaned forward to touch her shoulder, "Why not? Why not? You know it's the right time."

"It's not my secret to tell."

He laughed gently, "Of course it is."

"Could you cut the cryptic stuff? I think I know what you're going to say anyway!"

Amelia was clearly exasperated, tossing her hands up in the air.

"You can never say it," Pierre turned to their niece and Anna watched, "You can never tell anyone you know."

Amelia held up her hand, "Oh my goodness I swear! And I bet I already know."

There was a pause then and Anna felt it building in her chest, rearing up into her throat as a powerful and unstoppable catharsis.

"Joseph is my father."

Amelia looked dumb for a moment, then she smiled and nodded and a laugh bubbled from her throat.

"Oh that? Ha! Well you must be delighted auntie Anna," she grinned.

"That's all you have to say?"

After a terrible pause Mia shrugged, "I don't need to know their terrible little secrets to know they love each other or that they love us. Grandma taught me life was more complex than I could ever have imagined when she rolled up and told me I was a princess in that godforsaken garden at fifteen. It doesn't matter who made you, but who they chose to make you. We're all okay. And anyway, I always had an inkling. You're Joseph's double, after all."

"You're not angry?"

"You can't be angry about the past, it wastes time."

She was so floored by her niece's simplistic wisdom that she couldn't scrape the words together to show her gratitude. She just nodded and felt tears begin to fall.

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