 1
His Majestic Regal Highness The King Michael of Andover stood before the arched window in his private suite with peace of mind. This morning, like every other morning, would begin with tradition, purpose, pomp, and a bit of irony for good taste. Yet in this moment of personal solitude and reflection, the current monarch felt better than he had in years. Could it have been the ease with which the past few weeks seemed to drift by, or the realization that all was not lost, despite thoughts to the contrary? The King let out a small sigh before turning his attention to the small silver alarm clock near his bed that was due to go off at any moment. No one in the kingdom knew that their monarch rose at five-thirty every morning in order to reflect upon what his life meant to him without the opinions of the many denizens who wanted nothing more than to bend his ear towards their own personal agenda. In the next two hours, his personal valet would come to ensure the King was ready for the day. After breakfast, he would go through his daily schedule with his private secretary, which would sustain him until he retired for the evening. Today was going to be a day where life would finally come together for King Michael. No longer was he going to hide behind the edifice of duty, but he would allow his heart to love after so many years of being alone. As the King walked from his bedroom through his dressing room, into his closet, and into his vast private bathroom, he recalled the times love seemed to evade him. Michael stepped into the warm shower as thoughts of his dearly departed wife, Her Regal Highness The Princess of Kemp, Princess Katherine, entered his mind for the first time in months. How he missed her free spirit, no nonsense attitude, and compassionate view on life. Her passing nine years ago had been a blow, not only to him, but to the entire regal family and the Kingdom of Andover. Their children dealt with their mother’s death in their own way, but there was no way to console them when they could barely process the brevity of the situation. One year later, after what seemed a lifetime without Princess Katherine, Michael’s mother abdicated, making him the ruling monarch of Andover. However unprepared Michael felt for the role this was his chance to shine…his chance to make a difference in the kingdom and in the lives of his people. The King began to lather his lean body just as the clock struck six; he had ninety more minutes of quiet reflection before his day officially began. His memories of Katherine were always pleasant, but they carried the scepter of deceit; not hers, but the one’s perpetrated and carried forth by those who influenced the man all those years ago. Now, after all of those years, he was finally prepared to pursue an event which he’d anticipated for years. Today, Michael thought, was the beginning of his life. Yes, it would certainly change Michael’s life forever, but in ways he couldn’t even imagine.
Life had already begun in the private state apartments which constituted the protruding east wing of the Gothic inspired Andover Palace. These private state apartments were designed for the exclusive use of Andover’s regal family who were married with their own families, or felt living in a private suite within the palace was an invasion of privacy. Luckily for these members of the regal family, their private state apartments were kept to the same high standard as the palace, which was easily accessible through an adjoining corridor.
Her Regal Highness The Princess Sophia of Andover awoke with a jolt just before seven o’clock in the morning. Her heart raced at a speed which frightened her, so she reached for the crystal tumbler she always kept by her bedside. As she sipped the water, her husband stirred and pulled the bed sheets around his broad shoulders. His Highness Prince Robert let out a soft snore, which made her smile. How she loved him. Even after twenty-one years of marriage, Princess Sophia loved her husband as much as she did the first time they’d met. His kind brown eyes and gentle soul were the trademarks of his personality, and he was the best lover she’d ever had. The princess placed the tumbler onto the mahogany table with great care and slid her feet into a pair of cashmere slippers as she pulled on a silk azure morning robe.
Princess Sophia walked to the vast window in front of her bed with a view of the expansive grounds of Andover Palace. She always marveled at the fact that the palace was only three miles from the center of Old Andover, but within the palace walls it was a world away. Despite the fact this palace had been Sophia’s home since the death of her grandfather, His Majestic Regal Highness The King Henrik of Andover, Princess Sophia felt restless. No matter how hard she tried to ignore these feelings stirring in the pit of her stomach, the restlessness within her soul refused to recede.
“You’re up early.” Sophia snapped out of her reverie as she turned to her husband. Prince Robert gave his wife a mischievous smile. “Are you all right?”
Sophia nodded. “I couldn’t sleep…again.”
Robert slid out of bed. Sophia noticed his waning morning erection through his soft pajama bottoms. His brown chest heaved as he exhaled and stretched towards the heavens. He wrapped his arms around Sophia’s waist, kissing her on the nape of her neck. “Maybe you should see Dr. Hyatt…”
“No. The last thing I need is press speculation concerning a visit to my doctor. I’ll be fine.”
Robert watched as his wife broke his grasp. Although he’d always loved her, he knew that there were issues he would never understand about her. For instance, she always worried about what the press would write about her. However, he knew this was due to the fact that her brother, mother, grandfather, and great-grandfather had been the monarchs of the Kingdom of Andover and she had a sense of duty on her slender shoulders. Despite Robert’s best efforts over the years to assuage her fears, they always fell on deaf ears. “Shall we have breakfast with the family,” he called after his wife.
“I suppose.” Sophia pulled open the door to her bathroom. “Robert?”
“Yes?”
“Do you love me,” she asked. He smiled. “Of course.”
With that, Sophia disappeared into the bathroom as Robert pulled on his bathrobe. There were many moments when he wondered if he ever truly belonged to this rarefied world, or if his presence was simply a matter of design. Growing up in the kingdom as the son of an aristocratic family, Robert had met the regal family on many occasions, but he never felt as if he knew them. Hell, after twenty-one years of marriage to Princess Sophia he still doubted whether or not he was a member of this family or just Sophia’s husband. Whatever the true answer, he couldn’t worry himself with it this morning or any morning for that matter. Duty first, self second, Sophia always reminded her husband. And, he sighed to himself, she was always right.
“Mommy! Mommy!”
Her Regal Highness Lady Margaret of Andover stirred in the comfort of her down feather bed as her ten-year-old son’s voice sailed down her ear canal. Margaret let out an exasperated grunt as she shuffled across her bedroom, slipped into her mauve dressing gown, and stepped into the corridor. Standing in his black pajamas with his hands folded across his chest, His Regal Highness Samuel of Andover, stared daggers at his tired mother. She yawned. “What is it Sammy?”
“Look.” He opened his little hand to reveal a surprise – his dead pet hamster. “He won’t wake up.”
Margaret took a closer look, but jumped when her son tried to put the dead rodent into her soft hand. “Honey, he’s dead.”
“What?” His eyes grew wide and quickly began to fill with tears. “But Mom, he’s only two. Why’d he die?”
“I don’t know, Sam. Put him back in his cage and I’ll have Ellie tend to it.”
Samuel closed his hand with defiance. “I want Daddy.”
Here we go again, Margaret thought tersely. Whenever she didn’t do what her son demanded, he always requested his father, His Highness Edward. Thankfully, he was due to return today from a three month dig in the Sahara Desert. “Samuel, he’ll be home today.”
“Good.” Samuel spun around and ran down the corridor to his bedroom.
Lady Margaret walked down the corridor of her state apartment with a sense of purpose. She may not have been a princess like her cousin, Sophia, but she was still a member of the regal family, a fact she never let anyone forget. Her mother, Her Regal Highness The Princess Fiona, was the younger sister of the Dowager Queen Cassandra. Growing up, Margaret felt as if she were made to feel less than by the staff and some members of the family – especially her grandmother, Her Regal Highness The Duchess Victoria – but she never let it bother her. Margaret felt as if she’d spent her entire life proving she was just as good as her cousins and it shaped the course of her life. When her mother, Princess Fiona, died eight years ago, Margaret’s brother, His Regal Highness Lord Walter of Andover, moved into Fiona’s regal residence, Blake Manor. Whether it was out of defiance or refusal to be carted off to Blake Manor, Margaret retained her state apartment at Andover Palace, to the unspoken consternation of Princess Sophia. The feud between the princess and the lady was well documented in the press, but they never commented on it in the public sphere. But that didn’t matter, Margaret reminded herself as she sat on the chaise lounge in her private sitting room. With Edward’s return in a matter of hours, Margaret had too much to attend to and lending her thoughts to her feud with Princess Sophia was quite counterproductive.
“The morning air always refreshes me.” Her Regal Highness The Dowager Queen Cassandra, the former monarch of Andover, took in the misty April morning with great abandon. Her three West Highland Terrier-Cairn Terrier crossbred dogs sniffed the grounds of the palace with the same curiosity they dedicated to this task every morning. “Don’t you agree, Joseph?”
“Yes, Grandmother.”
“Now, you know what I always say: If one can’t enjoy the small details of life, how will they ever enjoy the gifts they seem to strive for?”
His Regal Highness The Prince Joseph of Andover couldn’t help but laugh at her philosophies of life. As the youngest child of King Michael and the deceased Princess Katherine, Prince Joseph was always close to his grandmother. Their morning walks were a tradition that went back to Joseph’s fourteenth birthday and continued until this very day. Whenever Joseph went way, he called her each and every day to discuss the recent events affecting the kingdom, as well as the family. When his mother died nine years ago, it was his grandmother, then Queen Cassandra, who dedicated her time and attention to ensuring that he got through the tragedy. Joseph always remembered his grandmother’s undying kindness, despite what the press wrote about her from time to time.
“Darling,” continued Cassandra, “what’s on your agenda for today?”
“I’m reading to a nursery school at ten and having lunch with Alexander at Kemp Castle to discuss Mother’s charity, but my afternoon is wide open. Why?”
“Maisie, don’t touch those mums,” Cassandra whispered. Maisie, the oldest of Cassandra’s dogs, quickly ran to her mistress’s side. “Well, you do know that Edward is returning to Andover today. Don’t you?”
“I heard Margaret discussing it with my dad.”
“Really? What did they say?” Although she always denied it, Cassandra was a lifelong gossip, a quality she always had to suppress during her twenty-eight year reign as Queen of Andover.
Joseph leaned into Cassandra. “Apparently, Edward’s dig is over and he’s coming home.”
Cassandra huffed to herself. “Well,” she began, “it’s about time. He has a wife and child! Not just any wife! He’s married to a regal highness! I never understood how Edward could run off to the Sahara Desert to dig for bones when he has responsibilities. If Fiona were alive, that never would have happened. My sister would have seen to that.”
“From what I’ve heard, Edward and Margaret have never had a conventional marriage.”
“You don’t know the half of it!”
“Grandmother!”
“Joseph, we all have a past. Margaret has hers; Edward has his. That’s all I’ll say on that matter. Now, tell me, what are we having for breakfast?”
As the regal family began to file into their breakfast room, the Blue Parlor, to enjoy the fresh eggs, warm pancakes, French toast, rare tea and coffee, and the other delicacies dreamed up by the palace’s chef, one member of the family was conspicuously absent. It wasn’t His Regal Highness The Prince of Kemp, Prince Alexander, who resided at the heir’s residence, Kemp Castle; His Regal Highness Lord Walter, who resided at Blake Manor; or His Highness Edward who was boarding the regal jet to Andover. No, it was King Michael’s middle child and only daughter, Her Regal Highness The Princess Helena of Andover, who was sulking in her bedroom.
Most mornings, Helena’s absence from the regal breakfast was overlooked. This morning however, her father demanded her attendance. When word reached Helena fifteen minutes ago, she wanted nothing more than to scream to the heavens, but she knew she had no choice. God, she thought, not today. The princess walked by her floor length mirror once again to catch a glimpse of her slightly rotund body. She knew she was a bit plump, but the newspapers were being especially cruel today. This morning’s edition of The Pass Observer sat on a silver tray next to her silver coffee pot. “Princess Porky Goes to Town!” shouted the headline in black ink. Had she known a photographer with a photo lens was stalking her from two hundred feet away, she wouldn’t have eaten that burrito so quickly, but she had an engagement in twenty minutes.
Stop it, she told herself once more. Stop making excuses for them, she sighed. Life had been like this for the past two years and, until she lost the weight, she feared that she may never have a quiet moment again. The longer she remained a walking target for Andover’s press, the longer they would watch her every move. But there was only so much one could do. Last month, she even asked her father to take away The Pass Observer’s operating license, but he declined because it could violate their right to free speech. But what about my right to live a private life, she wanted to scream. But a private life was something she’d never had. As the daughter of the current monarch, Helena lived in a veritable fish bowl and she hated it. There were times she even considered giving up her regal entitlements, taking her trust fund, and disappearing into a vast city like London or New York. But, for the time being, her presence was requested in the Blue Parlor.
Helena slipped into her black Manolo Blahnik Mary Jane’s, took a deep breath, and ventured down the vast labyrinth of corridors to the Blue Parlor where her family waited.
“How nice of you to join us, Helena,” smiled Lady Margaret.
“Guess what, Helena? My hamster died,” Samuel said sharply.
Helena waited as the butler pulled out her chair between Cassandra and Samuel. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“See!” Samuel reached into his blazer pocket and dropped the rodent on her plate.
Princess Helena let out a scream. Margaret quickly scolded her son. Within an instant, a maid had removed the plate and replaced it with a clean one. “I told you to put that the hamster in its cage,” Margaret snapped.
“I did. Then I took him out again,” Samuel countered.
“Samuel, I’m sorry to hear your pet has died. We should get him a real pet. Like a dog. You do know that Maisie is about to burst,” Cassandra stated blithely.
“Can I have a dog, Mom?”
Margaret gave Cassandra a steely gaze, which Cassandra conveniently ignored. “I’ll discuss it with Aunt Cassandra. Later.”
Michael rose from his seat at the head of the table. “May I have everyone’s attention? Sam, I’m sorry to hear that your pet has died, but such is life, is it not? I have news. Count Matthew Hall will fly into Andover tonight and he will stay - as my guest - in a suite within the palace.”
Silence filled the room. They all knew who Count Matthew Hall was – the whole kingdom knew – but he usually stayed at The Nightingale Inn, Andover’s most exclusive hotel. If Count Matthew Hall stayed at the palace during this trip to the kingdom, who knew what the press would make of the situation or how the people would react. This notion, to a certain degree, weighed on all of the minds present in the Blue Parlor.
“Dad, what’s going to happen with you two?” Joseph knew that Michael wouldn’t have arranged for Count Matthew to stay at the palace without good reason.
Michael sat in his chair as he prepared to break the news to his family. “The Count and I have been together for three years. I thought it was time he stayed here…in a suite. Logistically, it’s easier.”
Cassandra stirred her coffee absentmindedly. “Michael, he could easily stay at Blake Manor…”
“Mother, this isn’t open to discussion. I simply wanted to inform everyone that the Count will be here tonight, so please let’s make him feel welcomed.” Michael turned to Margaret. “Will Edward be with us tonight?”
She nodded.
“Then I want us to have dinner in the dining room. I’ll have my secretary organize your schedules accordingly.” Michael stood again and left the room as everyone else stood out of respect.
A look of confusion, concern, and outright curiosity filled the room, but no one quite knew what to say to break the spell cast by their monarch. “Well,” Cassandra said dryly, “it looks like this is going to be an interesting day after all.” |
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