Part 4 (1/2)
”You wished to see me, Your Majesty?” Waved to a chair, Christian sat up straight and laid his hands on the arms of the chair. His fingers wanted to trace the intricate scrollwork, but he knew that the king also hated fidgeting.
”Indeed I did, Prince Christian. Indeed I did.”
The king sat behind a large desk, both hands flat on the blotter, and studied Christian. Christian smiled politely, and did not twitch or look away. He hadn't committed any crimes that he was aware of, yet a feeling of guilt took root in him all the same.
63.”I'm sure your royal father, King Karl, told you of the ulterior motive behind these little state visits,” King Rupert said.
”Er, yes?” Christian wasn't sure what he was asking. King Rupert couldn't possibly be cra.s.s enough to talk about marriage in this way.
”So, what is your intention toward my daughters?”
Christian choked. Apparently King Rupert really could could be that cra.s.s. be that cra.s.s.
”Are you planning on marrying Hermione or Emmeline?”
”Um, I'm afraid that I haven't really ... The girls are very young...” Christian felt hot and cold at the same time. If Breton was looking for an alliance through marriage, he didn't want to cause a war by refusing them outright. Why didn't Rupert take this up with Christian's father instead of ambus.h.i.+ng him this way?
”After the New Year I believe you're to go to a.n.a.lousia?”
”I think so.” Christian fought to regain his composure.
”I don't want to lose you to a.n.a.lousia, or Spania,” Rupert said bluntly. ”If they turn against us, the way a.n.a.lousia went after Westfalin a few years back, you'd be forced to side with them. Hmmm.” He stroked his impressive mustache. ”Perhaps someone else might do.” He stared into s.p.a.ce, apparently forgetting that Christian was still in the room.
Looking at the clock, Christian realized that it was almost time to meet Marianne and Poppy at the Royal Gallery. He took a deep breath and stood, bowing. ”If Your Majesty will excuse me? A certain royal duty calls.”
64.”Yes, yes, go on, Prince Christian.” King Rupert was busily jotting down notes on a piece of paper.
At the gallery, Poppy and Marianne both laughed at his panicked recital of this interview.
”Someone else?” Marianne shook her head. ”I am a cousin of the royal family, but I have my cap set for my own someone else, you know.” She blushed, and Christian knew she was thinking of d.i.c.kon Thwaite.
”And I'm out of the question,” Poppy joked, taking his arm so that she and Marianne flanked him. ”Mother was Rupert's cousin, but imagine if Father were to turn on Breton! Oh, the scandal!”
”Would your father turn on them?” Christian was only idly curious. With a girl on each arm he was getting a number of envious looks and rather enjoying them.
”Oh, heavens no!” Poppy lowered her voice. ”Let's face it, King Rupert can be horrible, but Father still likes to keep on good terms with him.” She sighed. ”Which is why I'm here.”
”Your father sent you, especially?” Christian couldn't help but think that bold Poppy was an odd choice for amba.s.sador.
”Oh no. I drew Breton out of a hat. Hyacinth, who's very religious, is the only one who didn't draw: Father sent her to a.n.a.lousia to impress them with our piety.”
Christian was fascinated. ”You drew lots to see who would go where?”
”No one cared which one they got,” she said with a shrug. ”And Lilac and Orchid both wanted to go to Spania. Some 65.famous actor is doing a play there this season. So Father used the hat to make things equal.” ”So the twelve of you--”
”Nine,” she corrected him. ”Hyacinth was sent to a.n.a.lousia, and Lily and Rose are married. n.o.body wants a married princess,” she laughed wryly.
”True.” He paused. ”Doesn't it bother you?”
Poppy shook her head.
”It shouldn't,” Marianne put in. ”Any girl with a dowry is told from the day she's born that she has to marry just the right person for just the right reasons at just the right time.” She grimaced. ”All you can hope for is that he's got teeth. And hair.”
”Oh, don't be so put upon,” Poppy said. ”Your parents would never force you to marry anyone you didn't like.”
They left the gallery and went out onto the grounds. The Royal Gallery was housed in a grand mansion with extensive gardens behind, which were a work of art in and of themselves. The trees had been sculpted into perfectly smooth cones, and the hedges were shaped like sea serpents and other fantastical creatures.
”Not bad,” Poppy said with a critical eye. ”But that yew is on its last legs.”
”A gardening expert, are we?” Christian liked Poppy, but he thought she was a rather strange girl. She hated dancing but was very good at it, and meekly went riding every day despite being a terrible rider. She gambled, and could swear 66.quite colorfully (as he had discovered one day when the more spirited horse she was trying threw her in the park). And while she claimed to be fond of the ladylike art of knitting, the ”socks” he had seen her working on were bizarrely large.
And now it seemed that she was a trained gardener.
”I don't actually care about growing anything myself,” she explained. ”But Father's gardens are considered the finest in Ionia. He had them created for my mother, who was terribly homesick, and at first it was only to remind her of this.” She made a wide gesture with one hand to indicate the sweeping green lawns before them. ”But in the end he became so involved that he's even developed a number of new roses.”
”How do you develop a new rose?” Christian could barely tell the difference between a rose and a daisy.
”I really don't know.” She shrugged. ”But they're all named after my mother: Queen Maude, Maude's Beauty, Beloved Maude. One of my sisters asked once why Father didn't name a rose after any of us, and he pointed out what the rest of us were thinking: who names a flower 'Poppy's Rose'?”
”Daisy's Rose,” Marianne put in.
Christian started to laugh, but a strange feeling came over him. It was happening with greater frequency now: the glimpses of green in the corners of his eyes, the faint sparkle in the air. It mostly happened when he was near large windows, but walking through the Mirror Gallery at the palace also made him uneasy.
He looked around and saw a small greenhouse half-hidden 67.behind a hedge. The gla.s.s did have a faint greenish tint, but nothing like what he thought he'd seen.
”What is it? Do they have exotic flowers?” Marianne peered toward the little house. ”It looked green for a moment, but now it looks bare.”
”Green? You saw it too?” Christian tried not to sound too eager. He'd thought his eyes were playing tricks again.
”I didn't see anything,” Poppy said. ”Except the fish in that pond there.” She looked as though she were going to spear one of them with the tip of her furled parasol. Really, she was an odd girl.
”No matter,” Christian said uneasily, steering them away from the greenhouse and the fish. With a note of forced casual-ness he asked if they cared to join him at a nearby tea shop for some refreshments.
”Of course we do,” Poppy said, turning her back on the pond readily. ”Young ladies are always hungry, you know, because we're not allowed to eat properly in front of potential suitors.”
”What about me?” He wasn't sure if he was offended or not.
”You? But you're our friend,” Poppy told him, linking her arm through his again. ”Like an older brother.”
”Ooh, I love strawberry icing,” said Marianne. The green gla.s.s house seemed to be completely forgotten.
But Christian couldn't forget. What did it mean?
And what did Poppy mean by an ”older” brother?
68.***
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