Princess Dottie, page 12
“That's a rotten excuse and you shouldn't hide behind it. You did what suited you and called it duty. That's what being royal means, isn't it?”
“Being royal means doing what you have to, whether it's what you want or not. It means giving up what you love and settling for what you can get.”
“So you give up Sophie and settle for me? Do I congratulate you?”
He didn't know how to answer her in this mood. Dottie's eyes warned him to be careful. She was bitterly, wretchedly angry, in a way that was new to him. Where was the chuckling pixie who'd enchanted him? This woman looked as though she'd never laughed in her life.
While he stood there, dumb, she walked away to the window and stood looking out at the avenue of limes. After a moment he went up behind her, and spoke softly.
“Do you remember what you said to me that first evening by the Thames?”
“Don't,” she said huskily, putting a hand over her eyes. “Don't ever mention it again.”
“I must, because that night you opened your heart and spoke to me out of your true self. You said that you'd dreamed of being a children's nurse. Now I know why. It's in you, that instinct to care for those weaker than yourself. Now you have three million children looking to you. 'A true mother to her people,' they called you. Who will care for your children if you don't?”
“Oh, you know all the right things to say, don't you?” she cried in despair.
“No, it's you that says the right things. I merely remind you of them. That night you spoke of fate and destiny, and how there was a niche waiting for you somewhere in the world, that only you could fill. Those were your very words.”
She turned. He met her eyes, hoping to see in them understanding and acceptance, but there was only the dread of a trapped animal.
“Dottie,” he said gently, touching her.
But she sprang back at once as though his touch was hateful to her. “Keep away from me,” she said hoarsely. “I can't bear to look at you. Keep away.”
He put out his hand but he was too late to stop her. She evaded him and darted for the door, then outside, and he heard her footsteps along the corridor. After a moment she appeared on the ground, racing along the long drive where Mike's car had departed, as though she had some wild hope of calling him back. But then she turned aside. Randolph's last view of her was disappearing into the trees.
For an hour Dottie wandered beside the lake, her thoughts too jumbled to make any sense. Sometimes it seemed that she wasn't thinking at all, just feeling. But feeling hurt too much. Randolph was right. It was better to do without it.
She hoped he wouldn't send anyone after her. She needed the solitude of this place, to be away from him. She'd relied on Randolph every moment since she came here, and now she didn't know how she could ever rely on him again.
Looking around, she realized that she was in the place she'd seen from her window the night she came to Elluria. In this spot Randolph had wandered with the woman he loved, his arms around her, thinking himself hidden by the darkness.
It was a long time before she returned to her room. He was no longer there and she sat for a while, not allowing anyone in. Just now she needed solitude. After a while she rang the bell and summoned Aunt Liz.
She had much to keep her occupied for the rest of the day. Her dressmakers brought several half-finished outfits to be fitted and there were decisions to be made. What should she wear for this reception and that? What shoes went with what? She was meeting an ambassador and must wear the jewels that had been a gift from his country.
It was strange how rivetingly interesting new clothes could be one day, and how depressing another.
It was silly to quarrel, she thought, as her anger evaporated. This was what he'd meant when he'd talked about realpolitik. It was the real world of royalty.
She didn't like this world. It was a place where she was expected to marry Randolph and be satisfied with the outward show; a world where her heart and feelings had no place.
But she couldn't afford to be at odds with her chief advisor. She would smooth it over somehow. She called his room on the internal phone, and his valet answered.
“Prince Randolph isn't here,” he said. “He left the palace some hours ago to visit his estate. Do I understand that he left without informing Your Royal Highness? Oh dear.”
“No,” she said quickly. “He did mention it of course. I forgot.”
“Do you wish him to be notified that his presence is required?”
“No, that won't be necessary.”
As she went to bed that night Aunt Liz mentioned that she'd left her “a little light reading,” on her table. This proved to be a scholarly history of Elluria, and a reference book on the country's constitution.
She discovered that the sovereign's power was considerable. Elluria had an elected parliament from which most of the cabinet were drawn. But she could appoint anyone as a minister, elected or not. Also she could, at any time, declare a state of emergency and rule by decree. No wonder she scared them. She scared herself.
Now more than ever she needed Randolph here to explain everything and reassure her. But he was also the last person she would trust, because it all added up to a reason why she should marry him.
And pigs would fly first.
Next day Aunt Liz was bubbling over with excitement.
“Are the rumors really true? You're going to stay? Oh, that's wonderful!”
Dottie was touched by the older woman's obvious delight. But perhaps Liz was only pleased because she foresaw a marriage. A different candidate might have been a man, or already married, leaving Randolph out in the cold.
Was this what it meant to be a queen? To be suspicious of everyone who was nice to you? If so, it was a bleak prospect. And now there was nobody to help her. She was truly alone. The aloneness of royalty.
She soon realized that the news that she was staying had changed everything. Now she must appoint ladies in waiting, meet her cabinet and have in-depth discussions with her prime minister.
About what for heavens sake? Somebody tell me what I'm supposed to be doing.
“Of course you met your chief ministers when you arrived,” Aunt Liz reminded her. “But today it will be the full cabinet. I think your clothes should be slightly severe, your hair up, just one piece of jewelry, this brooch that bears the coat of arms of Elluria.”
As she dressed for her first cabinet meeting Dottie's thoughts swung about like a pendulum.
He's left me like this to show me that I can't manage without him. I didn't think he'd descend to that.
It seems I got him wrong. Well, he got me wrong too. Do I need him?
The meeting was in the parliament building, in the city. At noon Dottie was ready, pale but determined. She heard the faint knock at the outer door, but barely registered it until Bertha hurried in to say, “Prince Randolph asks leave to attend you, ma'am.”
She discovered that she could assume the royal mask, so that nobody could suspect the way her heart leapt. Nor did her voice quaver as she said, “Please ask him to enter,” although she was trembling inside.
Randolph looked like a man who'd spent a desperate, sleepless night. Dottie had meant to stay angry with him but she couldn't. In another moment she would have opened her arms, apologized for her angry words and asked him to be friends again. But before she could do so he bowed and said, “I am at Your Royal Highness's service.”
His cool politeness was more hurtful than a slap in the face. He was doing his duty. No more.
“I thought you would be away for several days,” she said quietly.
“Forgive me for leaving without first informing you,” he responded. “That was improper of me.”
She wanted to cry out, Don't talk to me like that. This is me, Dottie.
But it was too late. There was no going back to the old days: happy days, she understood, now that they were gone.
“Are you coming with me to the cabinet meeting?” she asked.
“If that is what you wish.”
“I can't manage it without you.”
“Then I shall certainly be there. It won't be very terrible. Remember they're more nervous of you than you of them.”
“Impossible.”
“You can dismiss them at will and appoint your own nominee.”
“Yes, that's what the book said. It doesn't sound very democratic.”
“It isn't, but it can be very effective.”
“Then why don't I just appoint you prime minister? That would be fair, wouldn't it?”
It was a mistake. If possible his face closed against her even more firmly, and his voice seemed to come from an arctic cave.
“It would be far from fair to dismiss Jacob Durmand, one of the best prime ministers this country has ever had. Nor do I wish to be the subject of your charity. I trust I make myself clear.”
“Perfectly. Shall we go?”
“Wait one moment,” he said imperiously. “There are things to be said between us first.”
“You're angry about what I said yesterday, but-”
She stopped, for Randolph had held up his hand as if warding her off. He didn't deny that he was angry, she noticed. He merely consigned the subject to the realms of the unimportant-as feelings were, to him, she reminded herself.
“Listen to me,” he said quietly. “And heed what I say, for I have never been more serious in my life. Once you've attended that meeting, you're committed, finally and irrevocably to the people-your people. After today a door will slam shut behind you.”
“Oh no. The door slammed shut yesterday. You must have noticed. You did it.”
“I think it could be opened again. You could return to England, reclaim Mike.”
“How could I ever do that?”
Randolph put his fingers beneath her chin and lifted it. “Remember what you told me once? 'A smile usually does it.' In London I watched you turn the chef into your slave. And Fritz in the kitchens here-he'd lay down and die for you. You have the gift of winning hearts, Dottie. You could win Mike's back. You could win…any man's.” The last words seemed to come from him reluctantly.
She scanned his face in wonder at this strange talk. His expression was gentle, but beyond that she couldn't read.
For a moment the temptation dazzled her. To regain all she'd lost and return to her contented life.
Then reality kicked in and she gave a little sigh. “It's no use. Mike never really loved me. He just thought he did because-” she gave a jerky little laugh, “because I kept telling him. Like he said, I'm a steamroller.”
“A sovereign needs to be a bit of a steamroller. But she also needs the gift of winning hearts, which you have. I'll help you all I can, but you must give me your word that you're totally committed. We can accept nothing less.”
“We?”
“Your subjects,” he said quietly.
“But-”
“That's what we are,” he interrupted her. “Every one of us. We've given you our hearts, and all we ask in return is-everything. Your life, your freedom, your independence, your time. We ask you to think of us day and night, to put us first no matter what your own feelings dictate. In other words, we ask your love.”
“Everything,” she whispered.
“Yes, it's a lot to ask. This is your last chance to escape. After today there's no going back.”
Dottie gave a wry smile. “There never really was, was there?”
“No. There never really was.”
She put her hand in his.
“I think we should go now,” she said. “They're waiting for us.”
Chapter Eight
Two cars left the palace for the parliament building. In the second was Aunt Liz and another lady-in-waiting. The leading vehicle was a black limousine that had been specially constructed for the purpose of transporting a monarch. The entire rear was one huge window made of bulletproof glass, so that the sovereign should be easily visible.
Dottie sat there by herself. Randolph had chosen to sit in the front, beside the chauffeur, and by now she was sufficiently attuned to protocol to understand that this detail was significant. On this important day her people would see her alone.
She couldn't know that Randolph had another reason. He sat apart from her because he needed time to sort out the turmoil of his feelings.
Dottie's harsh judgment of him had briefly been right. He'd left the palace in a mood of bitterness, and headed for his estate, meaning to stay there. Dottie's mistrust, her accusations that he'd acted from base motives, infuriated him, and the look on her face when she'd said “I can't bear to look at you,” had struck him like a blow. He'd put as much distance between them as he could.
But he'd barely arrived at his country house when his more generous self reclaimed him. He'd brought her here, dumped her in the middle of a crisis and then abandoned her. And why? Because his pride was hurt. He, who'd always said that feelings didn't count beside his duty to his country, had done something so cruel.
He'd spent the night pacing the floor, and next day he'd returned to the palace, arriving just in time. He'd searched her face as he entered, for any sign that she was pleased to see him, but her manner had all the regal austerity that he'd tried to teach her. It should have been a triumphant moment.
Now they were entering Wolfenberg, drawing up before the parliament building, an elaborate edifice that looked incongruously like a wedding cake on the outside. But inside it was redolent of history. Tapestries, depicting battles, hung on the walls. Statues of monarchs stood gloomily in niches. Red tiles streamed across the floors.
In a small chamber that led directly to the cabinet room Randolph said to Dottie, “Would you oblige me by waiting here a moment, while I go in first, to make sure everything is in order for you?”
She nodded and he strode into the next room. The ministers were already in place, and they greeted him with relief.
“If you're going to direct proceedings, sir, we'll all be very relieved,” Sternheim announced. He was one of the few who hadn't warmed to Dottie.
“I'm not,” Randolph announced flatly. “And you must put any such thought out of your head.”
There was a universal groan.
“A woman,” Sternheim said. “And a stupid, ignorant foreigner at that.”
“Keep your voice down,” Randolph snapped. “That is exactly the kind of attitude I came to warn you about.”
“Be assured we shall observe all proper respect,” Durmand said soothingly.
“I meant more than that,” Randolph told him. “Let me tell you something about your crown princess. She might be naive but she isn't stupid, especially about people. Don't ever make the mistake of underestimating her, because she'll pounce on any slip you make like a ferret up a drainpipe.”
Sternheim was aghast. “Like a what?”
“Never mind,” Randolph said hastily. He didn't know what had made him say that, except that Dottie's rich language had come back to him suddenly, and it was catching.
Next door Dottie walked up and down, increasingly nervous at the delay. Aunt Liz had opened the door a crack and was shamelessly eavesdropping.
Dottie couldn't bring herself to do the same but “stupid, ignorant foreigner” reached her clearly.
“If he just went in there to stir them up he needn't have bothered,” she muttered.
“Of course not,” Aunt Liz said. “He's trying to ensure that they show you respect.”
“Then he's doing a lousy job. And I'll fight my own battles,” she added illogically.
At last Randolph returned, to lead her into the cabinet room. It was lined with bookshelves weighed down by learned-looking tomes. In the center was a heavy table, large enough to seat fourteen people. Randolph led her to her seat, and when he had solemnly presented her he stepped back and to the side, moving his chair to where she could just see him out of the corner of her eye.
Durmand gave a speech of welcome, then he courteously asked if she had anything to say to her ministers.
“Yes,” she said. “I have. Please sit.”
When they were all seated she felt horribly exposed, the only one on her feet. Until today it had been a kind of game. Suddenly it was for real.
“I think none of us really expected this moment to come,” she said in a voice that surprised her by being steady. “I thought you would find somebody more suitable, and you must certainly have hoped for it.”
Perceiving that their sovereign had made a witticism the ministers permitted themselves a few smiles.
“But here we are, and must make the best of each other,” she continued. “I know I can rely on your loyalty both to me, and to Elluria. And you can rely on my loyalty to my new country.”
That pleased them and she was able to smile as she seated herself, asking, “What do we do now?”
It seemed there were many matters requiring her attention. Since it was her prerogative to appoint the cabinet every minister resigned and was immediately reappointed.
“But I may wish to make a few changes later,” Dottie observed. “I notice that there are no women here.”
“There are only six women in parliament,” Stern-heim noted caustically.
“And how many men?” Dottie wanted to know.
Sternheim gave a snort of impatience. “I don't recall the precise figure.”
“But you're my chancellor. If such a simple sum is beyond you, perhaps I should think again.”
There were smothered smiles. Sternheim snapped. “Eighty-two.”
“And only six women? Well, there'll be time for me to put that right.”
Bernhard Enderlin, minister of the Interior, coughed gently. “Strictly speaking, ma'am, that's my province.”
“Certainly it is,” Dottie agreed warmly. “I look forward to discussing it with you. Shall we say sometime next week? That will give you time to work out your plan. How lucky that I'm here.”
“I see that you believe in taking the bull by the horns, ma'am,” Enderlin said, accepting defeat with grace.
“Otherwise known as being a steamroller,” Dottie murmured. “Is there any other business?”
