Page 45 of A Foreign Crown
“She’s taken ill again—so ill the doctors don’t know what more to do for her.”
The others looked appropriately saddened. Perhaps they cared for the family after all.
Aribella went on. “The Queen and King are distraught.”
“You were with them both?” Lady Mallory narrowed her eyes.
“I was. They were conversing. The King was so sad. It is a pity he cannot rest from his work. I heard him, as I approached, discussing with the Queen how they would move forward, what they might do for Amelia.”
“And he seemed... sound?” Lady Smithing nodded.
“Yes, very. Naturally saddened. Perhaps he will rise to the occasion in this most desperate time for his family.”
“Perhaps.” Lady Mallory cleared her throat. “And what were you doing there?”
“I am to pay a visit to Carlton House, so I was receiving instructions.”
She knew Lady Mallory, particularly, would wish to accompany her, but she was not in a place to include her. And she knew the word Lady Mallory spread would not be in the Queen’s best interest.
“And did the Queen say who would accompany you?”
“She did not, only Dorcas.”
Aribella finished her tea and then stood. “This has been lovely. Perhaps I will join you more often in the mornings. Life at court can be somewhat isolating otherwise.”
She curtsied to the room and then hurried out and up the stairs to see to the management of her belongings.
The servants had almost finished packing, her lady’s maid helping to oversee such matters. Aribella ensured the inclusion of her mother’s book and then made her way down to the front entry, where the carriage awaited.
Soon Dorcas joined her, and the trunk was loaded.
As the carriage pulled away, Aribella said, “Dorcas, do you know what has happened to Princess Amelia?”
“I have heard some things spoken about,” the maid said.
“She is ill. The King and Queen are conversing together about how best to help her. The doctors give little hope, and so naturally, Their Royal Majesties are saddened—in some semblance of mourning already—but they are bearing it as well as can be expected.”
The maid nodded.
“I would like those details spread to anyone who will listen. The King and Queen mourn deeply, and their subjects should do all we can to support them in this time of great distress.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Aribella took a moment to calm her heart. She breathed slowly, carefully. And her thoughts turned to Prince Layton. What a torturous turn of events. She was to participate with him in activities, attend the luncheon at Carlton House, act as the Queen’s voice to anyone with ears, at Prince Layton’s side, at the same time pretending no interest and acting as though she would never pursue any further contact.
An impossibility.
And yet such a thing must be done. She prepared herself by thinking of her father and of Lord Bartholomew. Perhaps she would be best suited to respond immediately, accept a courtship, and therefore lock in her loyalties elsewhere.
Her skirts piled up all around her. The dress of Queen Charlotte’s court was beautiful but entirely impractical. She missed her lovely, straight morning dresses, the comfort of stays as opposed to this confining corset.
When the carriage pulled in front of St. James’s, servants approached, taking her trunks. One led her to a room where she would stay. This time her quarters were finer by a large degree.
“Will this be acceptable, my lady?” The St. James’s maid curtsied.
“Yes, of course. Might I ask whose chambers these are?”
“The Queen has put you in the family rooms. Any visiting royals usually use them.”
