Dear Sister,
The sudden arrival of your letter has left me astounded as to the nature of your person. In all truths, I have many doubts as to its authenticity. Yet a strange curiosity has overcome my immediate dismissal of your request. Against the counseling of my closest advisors, I have decided to come to America and meet with you.
However, I have no intention of journeying as far west as Blackwater. I have been to America a few times and am aware of how much the countryside is riddled with murderers, thieves and other such criminals. All the same, I do not expect you to travel as far as New York City, where our ship will harbour. Instead, we shall come together in Saint Denis at the Hotel Chevalier. I will see to it we have a room provided to us to discuss matters at our own discretion.
Furthermore, I require proof of your claim as to being my sister. Without it, I shall discount your story and immediately have you arrested for fraud. I am certain, if you are my sister, you will understand the gravity in which I consider this reunion and why I take precautions.
Regards,
Wilhelm Zinmeister, Duke of Luxembourg
Irene folded the letter and replaced it into its envelope. Her fingers drifted over the coat of arms stamped on the backside as a seal, of two crowned lions holding a shield. The letter she'd written to Wilhelm had provided her with results. Wilhelm had responded to her and was willing to meet.
She wondered somewhat at his reluctance to believe it was really her writing to him, but mostly she could hardly believe she'd gained his attention in the first place. For so many years she had done her best to stay hidden. Today, she would face him and see if she could end his hunt for her once and for all.
The train's sharp whistle cut through her musings and she lifted her head to glance out the window. The train was slowing as they entered the depot in Saint Denis. Charles sat beside her and she was immensely grateful at his presence. She initially had worried at the bullet wound he'd sustained and it affecting him on this journey, but so far she hadn't noticed him reacting in any sort of pain.
As Irene stepped off the passenger car, she looked up, viewing the looming Hotel Chevalier from across the street of the train depot. It was the newest building on Victory Street. It was made of brick, but a sunny yellow was freshly painted on its bottom half. The outside signage promoted the hotel's most luxurious amenities: Hot Baths, Electricity, Furnished Rooms.
Her eyes drifted across the dozen curtained windows as if it were possible to identify the occupants from this distance. She knew somewhere inside one of those rooms her brother was awaiting her arrival. She slipped a hand in her skirt pocket where she'd placed her ring. As light as it physically was, it weighed heavily on her mind today. She hoped having it with her for the meeting with her brother didn't prove careless on her part. The thought caused her stomach to drop and she exhaled shakily.
Charles rested a hand on her back. "Are you nervous?"
She released her hold of the ring in her pocket and faced him. She attempted a smile, but wasn't sure how effective it was. She didn't know what sort of reunion this would be. Wilhelm had been sending Hahn to pursue her for years. She half-expected him not to show up. Or, contrastingly, perhaps she was naive in believing Wilhelm wanted to talk and in actuality Hahn was the only one inside and ready to take her in. She'd evaded capture all these years, but now it was possible she was walking straight into the lion's den.
"Our train came in early." Charles suggested, "Why don't we walk around the block?"
She released another elongated breath. "Okay."
Irene was pleased he recognized her hesitation as anxiety and not as uncertainty that she wanted to continue. He grasped her hand, glanced at the other people walking on the sidewalk who might find such a display too intimate for public view and moved her hand to his elbow. His touch alone began to steady her, tamping down the worst of her unease.
They started down Courtenay Street, passing the entrance of the Hotel Chevalier. Once they did, she felt she could breathe again. They strolled beneath an oak tree guarding the church, its shade in turn protecting them from the summer sun. She'd found peace in Blackwater, but there were some aspects of Saint Denis she sorely missed.
She wondered idly if Charles felt the same when she recalled why he had left Saint Denis. More than anything, Irene was grateful Abigail had broken down this barrier between her and Charles. Once she'd found out about those godforsaken brawls he'd participated in, it had explained so much for her: the new scars, the way he avoided saying much about the time they had been separated, and his reasons in leaving the city.
She glanced behind them, all of the sudden worried about being seen. "Charles, aren't you afraid Marteli or his men will be looking for you?"
"Guido Marteli won't have any interest in me unless I attempt to enter the fights again. I was only a threat to him when he lost money betting against me."
"If you're certain…" She bit her lip, fiddling with the lace at the end of her sleeve.
When they turned down the next block, the corner with the printing press shop, Charles must have noticed her nervous twitching. He asked quietly, "What is it you fear?"
The one thing that concerned her regarding Wilhelm's letter was his insistence to change the location. The meeting at the hotel seemed practical enough on the surface, but what if she was missing something important? "I hope I'm not walking into a trap."
"You're not alone. I'll be by your side."
She smiled at him. "Thank you, Charles. You've been so patient with me. I couldn't have made it this far without you."
"You would have managed," he told her with a small shrug of one shoulder.
She wasn't as sure. Charles had been the one to give her the idea to meet directly with Wilhelm. Charles' presence here gave her the courage to face him. He was the strong one, the rock. Nothing seemed to faze him.
"What do you remember of Luxembourg?" he asked her after a short silence between them.
"Honestly, not very much." She sighed. "Most of it feels like a dream." She made an attempt to dig up any sort of memory from before she came to America. "There were gardens."
She also remembered a maze-like house, one in which she'd always needed to hold a woman's hand to navigate—not her mother, she knew instinctively, even though she couldn't specifically recall a face.
"I don't even remember my parents," she confessed. "I saw a picture of them in the newspaper once. It was paired with an article detailing my assumed kidnapping on one of the anniversaries."
She frowned as she attempted to recall more details, but her parents were always faceless figures in her mind, tall and unapproachable. They were always giving her orders. "Stand there, sit still, don't twitch, smile. Keep your mouth closed."
After being raised by Madame Mozelle and Josie, Irene knew how she should feel for her family. But she'd nothing in reserve for people she barely remembered, even if they were her parents. A pang of remorse only arose when she thought of Josie, who she hadn't visited in years yet considered a sister. Nothing for the family she'd lost as a little girl.
She shook her head. "Funnily enough, I remember Wilhelm more than anything." He'd been ten years older than her and relentless in his teasing. But she remembered him clearly.
"What do you want from today?"
She stared straight ahead. "I want Wilhelm to know I won't be intimidated. I want him to leave me in peace."
"Do you want to go back?"
She frowned at the question since she had no inclination to leave at this point. "To Blackwater?"
"To Luxembourg."
She didn't understand what he was trying to say. "I don't anticipate Wilhelm welcoming me back with open arms, Charles."
"You can't be sure of that."
Irene looked to him, reading his somber expression and realized for the first time she wasn't the only one nervous about today. It was hard to read Charles sometimes, but she'd known him long enough to recognize his discomfort. His mouth pinched downward a little further than normal and his dark brows were furrowed ever so slightly.
The street was too public for this conversation, but she stopped anyway and faced him. "Charles, are you worried I want to leave with Wilhelm willingly?"
He didn't give anything away, but somehow she still sensed his unease. "You'd be turning your back on a life of luxury."
She took his hand in hers and said softly, "That life isn't mine."
"It is," Charles told her firmly. "If you dare to take it, you could have wealth, titles, hired help and things you can only dream of."
"That's not the sort of wealth that fulfills me." She stepped close to him, resting her hands on his chest. "Those things are trivial and likely are at the cost of freedom, my own choices, and familiarity. I like my life in Blackwater. My life with you."
He raised a hand to her cheek, lightly touching the place of her birthmark. "But you'll still take it under consideration if your brother offers to take you home?"
Wilhelm had never shown any interest in bringing her "home", only in having Hahn retrieve her royal ring. "That isn't going to happen."
"We don't know what your brother will demand in there."
Irene sighed, facing the road again. "I have a fair idea. It's what he will do after he has my ring that worries me."
"I will protect you, whatever you decide." Charles kissed her briefly and it warmed her to her toes.
They continued down the block until they'd circled back to the hotel again. Irene had shaken off most of her nerves. Charles spoke of the possibility of reconciliation, but she saw no path for that, not when she'd been threatened by Hahn over and over.
As they stepped through the double door entrance, she was momentarily awed by the decadence of the hotel. There were two chandeliers overhead in the grand foyer. Carpets softened the floors and cushioned chairs were meticulously placed around the room. Columns lined the other wall where beyond where a dining room and cafe could be spotted. Everything looked new, from the smooth wallpaper to the shiny sconces and the bellhops in freshly ironed jackets who stood at the ready near the door.
Behind a large, ornate wooden counter stood a hotel clerk who addressed her, "Can I help you, miss?"
Irene swallowed and stepped towards him. "I have a meeting to attend with one of your patrons, the Duke of Luxembourg."
"Ah, yes." He nodded. "We've been expecting you. I believe His Grace is in the drawing room." His eyes slid surreptitiously to Charles and she could tell he meant to question his presence.
"Mr. Smith is my guest."
His glance narrowed slightly on Charles, but he didn't comment. The hotel clerk guided them to a private room down a short hallway off the main entrance. He stopped at a door labeled with a plaque that said, Lounge, and knocked three times.
"Here we go…" Irene said under her breath.
"Your guests have arrived, Your Grace." The hotel clerk held the door open as she and Charles passed over the threshold. "I give you the room, miss." The hotel clerk left, closing the door behind him.
There were two men in the sitting room, both with a drink in hand and standing near an unlit fireplace, clearly having been interrupted from a conversation at their arrival. Irene expected to find Hahn and her brother. There were two men, but neither one was Hahn. Unfortunately, his absence did nothing to put her at ease. It only meant he was unaccounted for.
The taller of the two men was dressed like a soldier, in a dark uniform. A yellow stash cut diagonally across his chest, with large gold patches on his shoulders, and a sword hung at his side. A decorative star-shaped metal was pinned on the left side of his chest.
Irene recognized her brother easily and was somewhat surprised that he lacked the cold composure and dead eyes of Hahn. She remembered him as very tall, and very callous with what seemed to be a permanent sneer. While still tall, he was thin, with a sharp jawline and bright, blonde hair. Under his eyes, the skin was dark as if he were unused to a fitful sleep.
As far as the other man, she didn't know him at all. He had short brown hair which was combed neatly to one side, and a matching mustache. Of the two, he was the only one who smiled a greeting, perhaps wanting to put her at ease.
Wilhelm cleared his throat and spoke, his accent had a hint of German to it. "This is Sir Robert Thill, my valet."
"And this is Charles Smith," she introduced right away, in case they tried to dissuade his presence.
"Charmed," Wilhelm responded, but he hardly took his eyes off her. He was watching her searchingly as if he couldn't necessarily believe she was there.
"Have a seat, miss." Sir Robert invited, gesturing to the settee on his right. Her and Charles cautiously made their way over as Sir Robert turned to her brother and whispered loudly, "It's her, Wil."
"Enough," Wilhelm said curtly, his expression never softening. Unnervingly, he remained standing. "First things first, I need to see proof of your claim."
Irene hadn't applied any of her normal cosmetics this morning just for this reason. She turned her cheek so the birthmark on her face was directly in his view.
Wilhelm showed no reaction except to nod. "And the other one?"
She wasn't sure why he was making her jump through these hoops, but she complied. Perhaps Charles was correct and he'd mistakenly entertained enough imposters to need confirmation. Irene drew up her sleeve and turned her wrist up so he could see the second birthmark that crept down her hand.
"Satisfied?"
"Almost." He crossed his arms. "What was the nickname the family gave you?"
Her brows furrowed at the question. She was about to answer that she didn't know. But she realized she did. Hahn had referred to her with it a few times, but she hadn't connected it as an actual nickname of hers. "Rena."
That seemed to finally rattle him. "Katharina? Is it really you?"
For a moment, she thought she heard real emotion in his voice. She wouldn't be taken in so easily. "I don't go by that name. It's Irene now."
"Irene," he repeated, his nose crinkling as if the name were too coarse for his tongue, but he didn't refuse to call her it. "Very well." He looked her up and down and then said something unusual. "You're taller than when I last saw you."
She was nothing but confused at the odd statement. If there was one thing she expected him to say, it wasn't that. She responded a bit awkwardly, "I...I was five the last you saw me."
"Indeed you were." He asked carefully, "And how much exactly do you remember of...the night you went missing?"
"All of it."
Because she'd locked eyes with him, she saw the flash of guilt that passed over his expression, but he mostly kept his composure. "I...uh…you weren't supposed to disappear."
Anger overrode all the fear she'd been having up to this point. Hardly able to keep control of her temper, she said tersely, "And you shouldn't have locked me in my own luggage."
"I would never have been able to anticipate you getting lost," he said in his defense.
She demanded, "So I am to believe that part was not your intention?"
"You becoming lost?" He flinched. "Of course not. What do you take me for?"
"I don't know," she shot back, "as I hardly know you at all."
The tension in the room rose as they glared at each other. He was just as argumentative and stubborn as she remembered. It was only a matter of time before he began ridiculing her. She had half a mind to walk out right now and deny him the satisfaction.
Sir Robert set his glass down on the table between them and cleared his throat. "There is certainly a lot of emotion running high at the moment. Perhaps the two of you should begin the conversation over?"
"Why should we?" Irene lifted her chin. "I think it's clear Wilhelm has no remorse for throwing his sister out of a carriage."
"It wasn't—I didn't intend—" Wilhelm grew flustered before he bit out, "Do you even remember the purpose of that trip?"
"It was a hunting trip to our uncle's house...wasn't it?" she ended her answer in a question as she caught Wilhelm and Sir Robert sharing inscrutable looks.
"So you don't remember," Wilhelm stated haughtily and it had her gritting her teeth.
"I was five," she told him again and with impatience.
He continued scathingly, "Then you remember nothing of your own country."
"How would I? As I said, I was a child, and it's been many years."
"You truly are an American now," he said with aversion. "You've even adopted their unrefined accent. I can't tell you've ever been to Luxembourg, let alone lived there. Can you even speak French or German anymore?"
"No." She wouldn't admit to him she did still retain a limited, but strong grasp of both for small conversations, which she had only realized when she'd begun as a waitress in Saint Denis and started running into people speaking either French or German.
Sir Robert interceded again with a placating tone. "Wil, perhaps you should start at the beginning."
Sir Robert and Wilhelm shared a silent battle of wills with their gazes before Wilhelm looked away first, straightened his jacket, and regained some of his lost composure. "Very well."
"The beginning of what?" Irene asked, growing annoyed.
As Wilhelm faced her again, he told her, "You may not remember, sister, but I was sickly for most of my childhood. My ailments were so severe our doctors didn't expect me to reach adulthood."
His change of tone and subject tamped down some of her irritation. She was also unsure of the relevance of these details as he was standing here fine with no obvious sickness except a slimness to his frame. "Okay…"
"Therefore, the chances of my inheriting the throne lessened with each passing year. Eventually, came the day when your birth was imminent." A brief, bitter smirk emerged. "Did our parents have plans for you, the second child."
She had no knowledge of any of this obviously so held silent and hung on his every word.
"Unfortunately for them, you were born a girl. My imminent death and your inconvenient gender meant our parents needed to find another way to stay on the throne. They hired scholars to scour the archives in search of a solution, as normally the throne would be expected to pass to the next male heir. They were successful in their search, finding a provisionary clause that had been added to the family pact in 1783."
"Which said?" She was listening avidly, interested in her history and the family she barely remembered. At the same time, she was trying to work out what he wasn't saying and if he was trying to manipulate her with the background of their parents' obvious disregard of him.
His mouth cut into a thin line. "Should the last male line fail to produce any male heirs, inheritance can be allowed to the next closest in line, female or male. You. Our parents believed by enforcing this part of the pact they could still hold power with you on the throne. "
"Then what happened?" She knew something did because of what he wasn't saying. If their parents had been trying to hold power through her when Wilhelm died, but Wilhelm didn't die, what came next?
He leaned back in his chair and bridged his fingers. "First, there were the assassination attempts."
"On our parents?"
He eyed her oddly. "On you."
She pressed a hand to her chest, shocked. She murmured, "I don't remember that."
He snorted. "As you repeatedly have reminded us, you were a child." He shrugged. "At the same time as the attempts on your life, I began to outgrow my illness, much to our parents' displeasure."
She saw his lip curl into a sneer and heard how bitterly he spoke on the subject. "How was you getting better a bad thing?"
"The king and queen created a problem of their own making; they called attention to the pact in which it was possible for you to inherit."
"How was that a problem?"
"For one, it threatened my original claim, which angered the family of my betrothed at the time. It also introduced a scenario in which you could be queen, and opened the possibility of you espoused to someone who could inherit everything."
There was far more intrigue in this story of his than she would ever have suspected. She rubbed her temple. "So we were sent to America for what purpose?"
"From my understanding, it was to separate us from the political mess our parents created with their meddling. It was only temporary, and, yes, we were supposed to stay in a hunting cabin of Mother's brother. Then...you went missing." He paused, swallowed, and glanced at Robert, who surprisingly nodded with encouragement.
Irene stared at him, confused at the sudden lack of confidence in his speech. He looked down, not meeting her eyes and continued, "I have never forgiven myself for what I did to you."
"Excuse me?"
He finally met her gaze again and told her firmly, "I...have many regrets of that night. I have prayed more times than I can count that this reunion would happen."
He sounded heartfelt and it threw her off-guard so much that she found herself asking, "Why were you so cross with me that night in the carriage?"
"I admittedly handled the trip with less grace than should be expected of me, but in my defense, I despised leaving home, even for a summer. My friends, my hobbies, my duties. I immaturely blamed you." A little bit of anger had crept up in his tone, before he sighed and released his tension. "It wasn't your fault, Rena. I know this. It was a childish manner of thinking, believing you could control the seriousness of the attacks that had been going on. The last few years I had all but given up hope that we would ever find you alive."
Irene stared at him not knowing what to say. She had come into this meeting on firm footing, ready to push back against any threats he attempted, but everything he was speaking about was a new, eye-opening revelation into the lead-up and events of the day she went missing. Never had she considered Wilhelm feeling remorse. She had only remembered him as this pompous, rude young man. Now, while the pomposity still very much remained, he spoke with deep regret. He'd once been her tormentor, but this Wilhelm of today was not that mean-spirited boy.
Then he delivered another shock.
"Once our parents died—yes—" he added as he'd noticed her expression change. "They have passed on now, but I promise you did not miss much. We were but pawns to them. For instance, they never found it necessary to prioritize finding you, despite my frequent insistence. In fact, it was better for them that your disappearance remained unsolved as they gained the public's sympathy from it." He gestured towards his valet. "Robert has been more family to me than the rest of them, giving me hope when I despaired of ever finding you."
Irene had been trying to keep an open mind throughout the conversation as it seemed in her estimation her brother was truly being genuine. However, she still didn't trust him fully and felt as if she were missing something. "I'm not sure I understand. If our parents were indifferent over my disappearance, and you were certain I was dead, then why did you keep sending Hahn after me?"
"Hahn." He frowned, shaking his head slightly. "Albert Hahn? How do you know of him?"
Why was he playing dumb? She crossed her arms. "He's been keeping tabs on me for years, on your behalf."
Clearly ruffled at her tone, he denied, "Albert Hahn hasn't been in the family's employment for over ten years." He paused. "Are you saying he's known where you were this whole time? He knew you were alive?"
Irene didn't know which one of them appeared more baffled. "I—yes."
Charles took this moment to speak up for the first time. "I've been witness to her mistreatment. He threatened to turn her into the authorities like she is a criminal."
Wilhelm straightened up. "Why in heaven's name would he do that?"
Now she was extremely confused as she said with less confidence, "You sent him after me."
"By George, I did no such thing. To what purpose?"
"For my ring. I assume you wanted it back." She withdrew the ring from her pocket and showed it to him.
"Your royal ring?" He looked at her hand with little interest. Indeed he had several rings of his own on his fingers. Hers looked insignificant by comparison. "I had no idea it was in your possession."
This conversation was making her head spin and turning the world she'd thought she'd known upside down. Her parents' apathy, her brother's remorse and the possibility Hahn wasn't working as an extension of her brother? Had she been mistaken all this time?
Wilhelm had turned to his valet. "Robert, once we have finished here, we must speak with that fellow from the federal government regarding Albert Hahn. He needs to be held accountable for what information he has kept from the crown."
"It shall be done."
Irene pressed a hand to her head, feeling the beginnings of a migraine. "I don't understand."
"Nor I, entirely. I suspect the both of us have been deceived for years. But I mean to correct it."
She asked, "If he wasn't working for you, then why would he come after me?"
Wilhelm tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I imagine, among other things, he meant to intimidate you, to keep you from seeking your birthright. Perhaps he even worked for our parents for some time and they made sure you stayed here so you couldn't foil their plans."
If they even did a fraction of what Wilhelm claimed, perhaps it was true. "Then why did he want this ring so badly?"
He shrugged. "To sell, to collect the reward money in some way. It's likely he didn't mean to keep you alive once he had it in his possession."
She looked at the ring. Could this be the true story?
If Hahn hadn't worked for Wilhelm, she needed to rethink everything she thought she'd ever known. She was careful about putting her trust in her brother, but the more she thought about it, the more plausible it seemed Wilhelm spoke the truth. After all, all she'd ever known of her brother had been speculation in the newspapers, what Hahn had told her, and the one mistake he'd made as a young man against her.
But if Wilhelm had not employed Hahn for his dirty work—had not even known for sure she was still alive—then she truly didn't know this man at all. Except that he wasn't necessarily the villain she'd always believed him to be.
Wilhelm commiserated, "I suspect it was our parents who employed Hahn for such a task. After I witnessed the callous way in which they disregarded the search for you, I chose not to do anymore of their bidding. Once I returned to Luxembourg, I refused to marry. They couldn't control me anymore, but bringing you back would complicate their barely held together power."
"They contrived everything?"
"That would be giving them too much credit. They were opportunists, not schemers."
"But is it still dangerous in Luxembourg?" Charles asked.
Wilhelm told him, "The threat did lessen once our parents passed away. And of course, after my sister went missing. The threat will never be nonexistent, but it is certainly safer now than when we were children."
"So, it would be safe for Irene to return?" Charles asked and Irene shot him a look.
Wilhelm frowned. "But of course. Is that not her purpose in contacting me?"
"Not exactly," Irene answered. Yet everything had changed. For so long she'd held so many misconceptions as to who Wilhelm was, as to what kind of people her parents were. She needed a moment to think.
Wilhelm leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "There is no doubt in my mind you are my sister. Do you not wish to return home?"
"I—don't know."
Charles narrowed his eyes on Wilhelm. "Do you not wish it, Your Grace?"
Wilhelm leaned back again, shrugging. "It's true enough she could very well challenge my claim as heir apparent because of how much our parents muddied the waters. But we would serve ourselves better as allies."
Charles had been right and she understood better his worry now. She was being offered what anyone whoever grew up through hardship wanted: riches beyond comprehension, respect and the type of home usually only existent in one's imagination. She could go from toiling her morning away, baking and sweating, to being waited upon hand and foot. Yet how could he think she'd leave everything behind on a whim?
Charles must have been able to tell what she was thinking because he said, "Irene, you should consider what he is telling you."
"Charles, I know what I want," she told him.
"Perhaps, Mr. Smith," interrupted Sir Robert, "we should give the siblings the room to discuss this in private?"
It surprised her when Charles agreed. "I won't be far, Irene."
Charles followed Sir Robert out, and then it was just the two of them, her and her brother. She knew her own mind and she had to make it clear. "Wilhelm, I'm honored you came all this way for me and am grateful at the possibility to reconcile after all these years. You're certainly more gracious than I expected."
He tilted his head in a slight nod. "As are you."
"However," she continued, "I'm afraid I won't be returning to Luxembourg."
Wilhelm eyed her. "You speak this way because of Mr. Smith, don't you?"
She wouldn't deny it. "He is a factor, yes."
"For what it's worth, I am certain you will be welcomed back into the fold without issue."
"And yet, I have made a home here, in America."
"You would choose for yourself a harder path, one in which prosperity wasn't guaranteed?"
"Yours is?" she retorted, as he didn't sound certain when they spoke of this treaty.
"Perhaps not as firmly as I wish it to be. Because of the clause our parents discovered in the family pact, and the ambiguity of your survival, it has left my claim to the throne unstable the last ten years. I am being challenged left and right by cousins who want to be heir apparent."
He certainly wasn't any good in painting a reclaim to the throne in any positive light. But why had he made the long trip here? Surely, her existence also complicated his royal claim. He also hadn't been certain she even was his sister when he received her letter.
Now that her fears and anger had subsided and she began to grasp the muddled details to her past, she asked, "Why did you agree to meet with me, Wilhelm?"
He told her without hesitation, "I often wondered what had become of my sister, but in all truthfulness, it is not the only thing."
She waited, curious, and trying to read his expression.
"I was careless the day you went missing and have regretted it for years."
She stated bluntly, "You locked me in a trunk and that trunk fell off the carriage. I was abandoned in the woods, and any manner of person, or wild animal could have come upon me."
He swallowed loudly. "I am, of course, aware of the nature of your misfortune and my part in it. I have waited many years to seek your forgiveness."
She studied him. Was that really all he wanted from her? He did seem so remorseful and she could imagine the guilt he's lived with all this time. From her experience with Charles, she was well aware how difficult it was to ask for forgiveness. Could she forgive him though?
All her fears had combined to be connected to Wilhelm, and his part in the traumatic event of her getting separated from her family. Yet if she were to take him at his word, perhaps he'd in fact saved her from another life where she wouldn't be the independent person she was today.
Irene said softly, "If that is all you seek, then you shall have it."
Wilhelm met her gaze, and with what she read in his woeful eyes, she believed him completely of his need for forgiveness. He truly had been living with this heavy burden. To make sure he knew she meant it, she told him, "You have my forgiveness, Wilhelm. Put it behind you. We were but children at the time. It is your actions of now I will use to determine your character from this point."
He seemed to grow overcome with emotion. His still, lanky frame moved forward suddenly and his arms enveloped her, the reaction surprising her. She hesitated only a moment before returning the hug.
"Thank you, sister," he whispered to her. After another moment, he stood, cleared his throat and returned to his seat across from her. "What now?"
Irene closed her fingers over the ring which she still held. It connected her to her past. But one that she found no curiosity in pursuing. She'd made her own life in America and there was nothing left of the princess thrown to the wild all those years ago.
She closed her hand into a fist as an idea came to her. "I think I have a solution to your problem."
"Oh?"
"I don't want to return to Luxembourg, but the possibility of my survival threatens your ability to effectively rule. Is that correct?"
"Yes, it is true."
"That's why when you return home, you'll say you found me…" She paused before exhaling and finishing, "...dead."
"Absolutely not." Yet he was clearly intrigued because he leaned forward. "Go on."
"You take my ring back and come up with a tale that proves my death. Something mundane will be believable, like consumption or pneumonia."
"And what will you do?"
"I will continue the life I've led here in America. As long as you're convincing, and can rid me of Hahn, it should work."
He mulled over her idea. "You would do this for me?"
She was honest. "I know nothing of court life anymore and, frankly, have no interest in learning. This has been my home for the majority of my life. I don't want to leave." She held out her royal ring to him. "You can take this as a mark of good faith."
He studied the ring and then her and then said, "No. You keep it. Should anything happen to me, and you wish to make your claim as queen one day, you'll have a path."
Surprised, she closed her fingers and said, "Thank you."
He glanced towards the door, where Charles and Sir Robert had left. "I imagine Robert should like the challenge of creating a convincing enough story to explain what happened to you."
"The two of you are quite close, aren't you?"
Wilhelm leaned back and nodded. "Robert has been with me through thick and thin."
She quirked a brow, feeling bold. "I'm happy you have found someone who makes you feel safe."
"Indeed," he said stiffly, not fully acknowledging her implication. She thought he might admonish her for teasing him, but he switched to asking, "Will you at least demand a stipend from me?"
She was slightly amused at his side-stepping. "I don't intend to blackmail you if that's what you're asking."
From his jacket he produced a small notebook. "Before we leave Saint Denis, I will open an account for you."
"There's no need—"
"You're a princess, Irene," he said sternly, giving use to her name for the first time. "No matter if you seek to deny it. It will be fully under your name and at your sole disposal."
"But—"
"Just say thank you, sister, as I won't change my mind."
She accepted meekly, "Thank you."
He exhaled, taking a moment to contemplate what they had discussed. "It seems I have some extensive work ahead of me."
"I'm sure you and Sir Robert are up to the challenge." She smiled at him.
He eyed her again. "It's interesting. Now that I've had the chance to speak with you, this meeting seems not long enough."
"How about we keep in touch?" Irene suggested. "We can write to each other regularly. You can inform me of how everything turned out and I will keep you in the know of my continued life as an American."
Wilhelm's mouth transformed into his first genuine smile since she'd known him. "I should like that."
XXXXXXXXX
Leaving the hotel, Irene was lighter in her step than when she arrived. Her meeting with Wilhelm went better than expected. Indeed, in one afternoon she'd lifted the majority of her burdens in one swoop.
Charles and Sir Robert had both seemed surprised at the plan her and Wilhelm had cooked up. But once they expressed their surety, Sir Robert began drafting ideas and planning the announcement back home. Charles accepted it with usual silence, but she thought she read relief in his eyes.
Because her mind was on reunion, Irene wanted to visit those she'd left behind in Saint Denis. Her and Charles walked across the city to stop in at the Café Belle Helene. The man who had originally hired her, Henry, greeted her gruffly, but cordially.
Daisy saw her next, squealing and bolting across the restaurant to throw her arms around her. Daisy squeezed her until she nearly couldn't breathe.
When Daisy finally let her go, she scowled. "Why the hell you run off without a word? I was worried about you!"
"I'm—" Daisy dragged her on further into the restaurant while Irene swore she caught Charles cracking an amused smile.
Irene saw Martin at the bar and he grinned as she passed by. Daisy sat her at the table and spent the next twenty minutes demanding details of where she lived, worked, everything.
When she finished her interrogating, Daisy started telling her what Irene had missed in Saint Denis, all about the waitress who replaced her, and how Daisy herself had one foot out the door (which Irene found amusing as she'd been saying it for years, but still worked at the café).
Once Daisy ran out of steam, Martin came around with food and drinks. They spent the evening catching up and Irene felt right at home again.
Eventually, the hour grew late, and rain began to drizzle down outside with the rumblings of thunder in the distance. Before she left, Daisy made Irene promise to write.
Because of the rain, Martin graciously offered her and Charles one of the unoccupied rooms above the café for them to stay the night. They took the key and had to run through the rain a short distance to reach the room upstairs.
The apartment was sparsely furnished only a bed and small table, but it was dry and without any noticeable leaks. As Charles examined the room, Irene took a moment to stand by the window, watching the lightning spark across the sky and listening to the thunder as it cracked through the city streets. These type of nights used to paralyze her and drudge up nightmares she couldn't keep at bay.
Charles came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, steadying her. "Are you okay?"
"Yes." Irene leaned her head against his chest, soaking in the warmth of his body and knowing that he was solidly a part of her life now. "I'm not frightened anymore."